Sandy Wildlife

On a grassy knoll

2011-10-05T17:45:00.008+01:00

Last Thursday I spent the day at Totternhoe Knolls & Totternhoe Quarry nature reserve. I rarely visit wildlife sites around Luton and Dunstable, but a morning slow-worm survey and an afternoon walk round the site with the Wildlife Trust Conservation Manager had me braving the M1. The M1 is never fun, but there were no serious hold ups despite the interminable roadworks, so I took it easy in my little Ford doing backing vocals for The Eagles.

The new reserve leaflet is just out but my copy is already battered having spent time in my back pocket.

Totternhoe is a complex of a number of different habitats: Totternhoe Knolls SSSI, Totternhoe Chalk Quarry SSSI and Totternhoe Stone Pit SSSI. The National Trust also manage the land around a medieval motte and bailey castle. The exposed chalk and old workings have created a mosaic of rich-chalk grasslands and scrub. The site also boasts populations of green hairstreaks, small blues and Duke of Burgundy butterflies. Well worth a summer visit. I must get over my M1 phobia.

The Trust has recently acquired more land at the site :-)

Correction: Mea culpa. The berries below are black bryony (Tamus communis) NOT white bryony as I initially thought. They can look similar and I didn't check properly. You can see a shrivelled leaf attached to the vine (bottom left of picture) which clinches the id. Thanks to Phil Green at White Cliffs Countryside Partnership for pointing out, via email and with great delicacy, my error. The bryony, whether it be black or white, was putting on a dazzling show draped seductively over the kissing gate. Black bryony berries are poisonous (as are white bryony berries). It is also, like white bryony, an irritant purgative and acrid cathartic. Best left for the birds.

The chalky pits are brilliantly white.

On the survey, we found only 2 slow-worms and both were weighed and measured.

A few little toads put in a warty but cute appearance.

OK, they aren't quite up to White Cliffs of Dover standard, but we do have some chalk cliffs (aka old quarry walls) in Bedfordshire.

This green lane, an old drover's road, was reinstated after quarrying.

The views from the lane across (and into the sun unfortunately!) to Dunstable Downs are wonderful. Here is the land where, before the WWII, you would have looked out at extensive plum orchards. The fruit was used for prunes. The prune skins provided a dye used to dye the felt for the once thriving Luton hat industry. Now you can go and listen to live music and theatre at the Hat Factory arts centre in Luton. BTW Eliza Carthy is playing this Friday.

The Whipsnade lion can just be made out on full zoom in the glare.

Castle Knoll is all that remains of a medieval motte and bailey castle.

The trig point on top of Castle Knoll.

From Castle Knoll you look down on the flower-rich chalk grassland of the Little Hills part of the reserve.

Tor grass (Brachypodium pinnatum) is a problem on the hillside. It can dominate and cause a decrease in biodiversity on chalk grassland once it gets a hold.

This part of the reserve is being grazed by sheep, les moutons français apparemment, but I don't know the breed.

Old man's beard or traveller's joy (Clematis vitalba) is rampant on parts of the reserve, but the sheep seem to like to nibble it.

On the way back to the car I found some fallen poplar leaves in the lane. They had swollen, curly stems.

On closer inspection these were clearly galls. Once home a quick Google came up with the answer: a spiral poplar gall cased by a little aphid, Pemphigus spyrothecae.

The natural history of the wee aphid that lives in this gall is quite fascinating. In the spring, when a young lady aphid hatches, she starts sucking on the sap of a young poplar leaf stem or petiole (Lämke, 2011). The sucking induces the poplar to respond by deforming into spiral gall. The lady aphid is now safe inside her new home.

This lady, known as the stem mother, foundress female or fundatrix, eschews sex (no males needed here) and she produces an aphid clone asexually. The resulting aphid nymphs act as soldiers to maintain and defend the home gall against other marauding aphids one assumes, and they develop into wingless (apterous) adults.

At the end of the summer sexually active adults are produced and they leave the home gall, which will crack open as it dries in late summer. These adults have sex and the lady aphids lay their eggs on the bark of a poplar tree. The egg overwinters and the cycle beings again next spring (Tyermana & Roitberg 2004). Cool.

On my walk I passed an allotment growing Jerusalem artichokes. Neither an artichoke nor anything to do with Jerusalem, the name is possibly derived from Italian settlers in the US calling this native American sunflower girasole (Italian for sunflower). Raw or steamed, the root's inulin content can cause, ahem, flatulence.

Perfect weather, gorgeous site and not a breath of wind. Well worth a visit if you are in the area.

Bibliography and further information
Beds Wildlife Trust (actually the Wildlife Trust for Bedfordshire, Cambridgeshire, Northamptonshire & Peterborough...but that is such a mouthful) manage the site. More land could be secured for nature conservation at Totternhoe. Best to join the Trust here......or you could just leave them a legacy here :-)
Totternhoe Chalk Quarry information here.

Poplar Spiral Gall Aphids
Tyermana JG & Roitberg BD (2004) Factors affecting soldier allocation in clonal
aphids: a life-history model and test. Behavioral Ecology, Volume 15, Issue 1
pages 94-101. Full text here.
Lämke, J (2011) The response of poplar to a gall-inducing sucking herbivore, the aphid Pemphigus spirothecae. Link to Max Planck Institute for Chemical Ecology webpage here.

Early another morning....

2011-10-02T11:23:00.007+01:00

After a lie-in (till 7.30) and my morning toast it seemed a crime to slouch in bed on such a lovely morning.

Before my walk, a short rant is in order. The local allotments are going to become part of the cemetery next year. I think November 2012 is the date the plot holders have been told. Boo hiss and shame on the local council.

What a pity to lose such a wonderful local amenity. I hope minds are changed on this.

On with my walk. In the recreation ground.....

...a few white campion (Silene latifolia) are still flowering.

The steps up to The Pinnacle always tax my calf muscles.

At the top the views across our little town of Sandy in the morning light are fabulous. I think this sequence of pictures is better than my previous panorama shot (blog here).

As it is Sunday, here is Sandy parish church (St Swithun's) with its clock glinting in the early morning sunshine. The church is built from local ironstone.

This English oak (Quercus robur) on The Pinnacle is not looking at all autumnal.

The bench affords some fine views and a brief respite (although it must be said it ain't the world's most comfortable bench).

There are steps down the other side....

...and across the road (Sand Lane) there are paths that lead to the disused sand pits. With some startling gully erosion in places!

The old sand pit is a great place to explore. I had it to myself this morning.

Heronsbill (otherwise known as common storksbill (Erodium cicutarium) - see blog here) was in flower in the sandy turf. So cute.

There were some flat white mushrooms.....as yet unidentified.

The sycamore leaves were dotted with tar spot fungus (Rhytisma acerinum). The fungus overwinters on the fallen leaves and produces spores in spring which then attack the new leaves. I rather like it.

Carline thistle (Carlina vulgaris) was looking suitably prickly.

I found a few yellow-wort (Blackstonia perfoliata) still in flower, but the yellow petals were glaring in the sun.

Perfoliata refers to the stem going through the leaves or in fact the leaf surrounding the stem; they are perfoliate leaves.

Update: I didn't have time this morning to look up the etymology of Blackstonia. Tut. Well, it transpires that the genus is named after an 18th century apothecary and enthusiastic botanical author called John Blackstone (1713-53) (Bowlt & Bowlt, 2000). His botanical stomping ground was around Harefield in Middlesex and he wrote a flora for the area in 1737. During the time he was an apprentice apothecary, the apprentices would meet up to go on botanical field meetings or herbal sampling expeditions. These meets were called herbarizings, and could apparently get quite rowdy and disorderly. They sound rather fun! John Blackstone is a bit of a forgotten hero in English botany so I'm glad I looked him up. The reference below (Bowlt & Bowlt, 2000) makes interesting reading.

Common centuary (Centaurium erythraea) was still flowering. I like its curly yellow anthers.

I tried to take a shot of my favourite blue fleabane (Erigeron acris) but the camera decided to focus on this ladybird instead. Hey ho!

And finally, a little shiny treasure. This small copper flitted past me and landed.

Of course, before I could get close it flitted up into a gorse bush. I had to tippytoe to get this shot of its burnished wings glowing in the sunshine. Just beautiful.

Bibliography
Bowlt EM & Bowlt C (2000) John Blackstone (1713-1753): a London apothecary and botanist of his time. Watsonia, volume 23, pages 39-46. Pdf here.

Early one morning

2011-09-30T23:24:00.002+01:00

Tuesday was a hard day. I walked up to the RSPB HQ at The Lodge. It's a tough commute but someone has to do it.

Although the weather turned out hot and sunny later, the early morning in this part of the world was foggy and damp. The heath was shrouded in a misty, dewy coat.

The myriad spiders' webs on the heather were all dewy and lovely.

Common storksbill (Erodium cicutarium) is still flowering in the sandy ground on the path.

You can see the long seed pods behind. They resemble the long bills of birds; storks in this case, or maybe not? Storksbill is in the Geranium family. According to Wikipedia Erodium is from the Greek erodios meaning 'heron'. Geranium is derived from the Greek word geranos meaning 'crane', and Pelargonium (also in the Geranium family) is from the Greek pelargos, meaning 'stork'. So storksbill is in fact, more correctly, called heronsbill.

Yellow toadflax (Linaria vulgaris) was also adding a splash of colour.

A few shaggy mushrooms were growing in the heather and on the path.

And this weird and wonderful furry, fuzzy yellow polypore is, I am pretty sure, a dyer's mazegill (Phaeolus schweintzii). It was growing at the base of a larch (Larix decidua). It was apparently (and one could guess from the name) used for dyeing wool.

I made my way past the log pile....

...the cherry leaves added some autumnal colour.

The Lodge house was just coming to life, with people arriving for work.

The gorgeous blue atlas cedar (Cedrus atlantica glauca) which you can see to the left of the photo above and here below....

...was putting on quite a sexy autumn show with its branches festooned with male catkins....

...standing upright and proud.

In the afternoon I walked home via the new heath over towards the Iron Age hillfort. The views off the ridge here are fine.

I found some floral dainties by the path. The beautiful heath speedwell (Veronica officinalis).

And here, a real treat, trailing St John's wort (Hypericum humifusum). Scrumptious!

I can't post a blog without the mushroom of the moment making an appearance. Fly agaric is everywhere. A youngster forcing its way through the sandy soil.

A mature specimen looking dazzlingly spicy (and reflective - apologies for that!). But that colour!

And (a photo I took in the morning) after the dazzle and razzle.......

I passed some sweet chestnut trees (Castanea sativa).

Thank you so much to the Romans for introducing this tree to Britain. With very little effort I procured a modest harvest.

Very tasty!

A Fun Girl Foray: Part Two

2011-09-26T09:38:00.006+01:00

This post continues my recent fungal foray round the RSPB Lodge nature reserve (Part One is here). If you don't like Amanita muscaria, well, I'd stop reading now. As I said in my previous post, I am not a fungal expert and have put up these photos just to show the variety I managed to find on even a short foray. In nature's infinite book of fungal secrets, only a little I can read.

My last post finished at the lower end of the RSPB heathland (at GR TL 19423 47837). I'm pretty sure this is a common earthball (Scleroderma citrinum). I hope I got that one right. It's nestling amongst pine bark debris, sheep's sorrel (Rumex acetosella) and a Scots pine (Pinus sylvestris) seedling.

And some more earthballs, larger this time, under the Scots pine trees.

Boletes again?

Here's a view looking across the heathland. The colours are glorious. On days like this when there is no-one else about it feels like my private nature reserve.

The old stumps are festooned with lichens.

Growing under the birch trees, I think this pretty-in-pale-pink mushroom has a Degas-esque quality.

A curious bracket fungus on an old birch stump. Update: Most likely to be birch polypore or razor strop (Piptoporus betulinus). Thanks to Abbey Meadows for suggestion. I can see a nose and an ear....

Yay! My favourite fungi! It's so outrageously opulent in the otherwise subdued brown leaf litter. Here's a fly agaric (Amanita muscaria).

I believe that Amanita is from a Greek word for mushroom. Muscaria (from the Latin for fly) refers to the use of the mushroom as a fly deterrent. In his 13th century 'De Vegetabilis' Albertus Magnus writes 'vocatur fungus muscarum, eo quod in lacte pulverizatus interficit muscas'. A translation of this (from Wikipedia) runs thusly...'It is called the mushroom of flies, because crushed in milk it kills flies'.

Here is another, older Amanita looking rather like a crème brûlée spinkled with nuts.

This dark, flakey-topped mushroom was growing under some pine and birch trees.

Almost a bagel? (The little fly is well camouflaged.) Update: identified as brown roll rim (Paxillus involutus). Thanks to Abbey Meadows :-)

This looks like a Russula.

As I was nearing the Gatehouse (the RSPB shop and main entrance to the reserve) there were fly agarics scattered all through the birchwoods to the left of the main drive.

Agarics wear petticoats. This one, growing right against an old birch tree, was more forward than most in coquettishly revealing her underskirts.....

...and made me think of Toulouse-Lautrec's La Troupe de Mlle Eglantine (here from Wikipedia).

Fly agaric mushrooms contain potent psychoactive, hallucinogenic chemicals (mainly muscimol). That doesn't seem to bother this ladybird.

They are just so lavish and beautiful. I love this time of year.

This little button was just pushing its way out of the damp earth.

I walked home via the new heath under blue skies.

There's a short cut to Sandy through this gate and down the hill.

Lush!

A Fun Girl Foray: Part One

2011-09-24T08:50:00.001+01:00

What better way to spend a late September afternoon than on a fungal foray around the RSPB Lodge nature reserve? Perhaps it might have been enhanced if I'd taken a fungi id book with me and my glasses. Slight oversights which left me floundering a bit at times. To be honest, I'm out of my depth identifying anything but the most common, recognisable fungi, so have mostly put up photos here to show the variety I found even sans my glasses.

The back way into The Lodge. Down a quiet lane.

A red admiral was very obliging.

The back gate is flanked by 2 old stone pillars, part of the old Peel estate wall. The Peel family (namely Sir William Peel, then on his death his brother Sir Arthur Wellesey Peel, both sons of Sir Robert Peel), owned the estate from 1851 to 1934.

The estate was then purchased by Sir Malcolm Stewart of the London Brick Company. The RSPB bought it for its new headquarters in 1961.

The Lodge reserve is situated on the greensand ridge. The reserve is heathland and acid grassland, with deciduous and coniferous woodland. A real treat to have such a lovely site a short stroll from home.

Heathland is a rare habitat round here and the RSPB are taking steps to restore large areas to heath to encourage birds such as nightjars (worth popping to this link to hear a nightjar call) and provide more habitat for the resident natterjack toads (call here). Even though the heather is just past its best it looks fine in the autumn sunshine. (The white patch is a Cladonia lichen, forgive me for not knowing its name.)

There's a path leading round the bottom edge of the heathland. I often have the place to myself in the afternoon and evening. I'm not complaining. It's very sandy as you can see with heather (Calluna vulgaris), Scots pines (Pinus sylvestris) and birch (Betula pendula).

I found a few heather bushes still in flower.

And underneath some heather, at first I'd though someone had thrown away their lunch, this shiny brown sticky-bun-like mushroom. A bolete I think?

I wondered if it was a penny bun (Boletes edulis)?

Around an old stump were some yellowy browny mushrooms. I wondered if it was honey fungus?

The ground was a mass of pine needles and cones. The air smelt of pines.

This delicate mushroom (about 2 inches across) was growing at the lower end of the reserve.

I noticed this patch of yellow dust on the dead bracken.

This perky little fella was coming up through the bracken debris. Another bolete?

And this wee one (same species?) with a lovely smooth silky top.

This dainty little mushroom was only the size of a 10p piece.

This distinctive bolete (?) had been uprooted and was lying unceremoniously discarded in a pile of pine chippings.

And this one I think I now know thanks to Abbey Meadows, is sepia bolete (Boletus porosporus)

The cute halberd-shaped leaves of sheep's sorrel (Rumex acetosella) were growing amongst the pine needles and wood chippings.

May I state now for the record that no fungi were damaged during the writing of this blog.

Part Two to follow. Update: here is Part Two.

Any help with id most gratefully received.
And for the record I don't intend to pick or eat any fungi.

In the mud.......again

2011-09-22T17:17:00.006+01:00

Monday was a lovely sunny September day and perfect for a return visit to RSPB Fen Drayton to see a special little plant. A little plant worthy of another post.

After my previous post on grass poly (Lythrum hyssopifolia), Roger Cope (Beeston Wildlife Group) emailed me to ask if he could come and see it. The RSPB warden Jacqui Miller was duly contacted and she agreed to meet us on Monday afternoon. I even managed to drive there without getting lost en route this time, thanks to having someone in the car to read the map.

For starters, before we'd even met Jacqui, we were both pleased to see annual mercury (Mercuralis annua) growing by the gate in the carpark. Annual mercury is usually dioecious so has male and female flowers on separate plants. How apt that they are growing by a kissing gate.

Jacqui met us and took us to the place where the protected species grass poly grows. It's a small, easily missed plant and incredibly rare so a real privilege to see it again. I was surprised and delighted that it was still in flower. It was growing new shoots from the base too.

The seed capsules were forming. Each capsule contains about 25 seeds (see 1968 paper by Edward Salisbury here).

Grass poly survives in pretty harsh conditions; damp, muddy hollows in arable fields (see abstract here). Its seeds germinate in the spring after winter flooding (the flooding reducing competition from other species). Poly seems to be very sensitive to competition.

It's just lovely.

After saying good bye and thank you to Jacqui, Roger and I headed up to the River Great Ouse to see greater dodder.

On the way we passed ossier (Salix viminalis), basket willow growing on the river bank. Its leaves are long and thin with smooth edges. The word 'osier' is from the French meaning withy or basket willow. Auseria is medieval Latin for willow bed.

The showy flowers of hedge bindweed (Calystegia sepium) brightened up an increasingly cloudy day.

I now know the way to remember the difference between hedge bindweed and great bindweed (Calystegia silvatica). C.sepium has its sepals showing and not covered by the bracts. In C.silvatica the sepals are covered by the inflated large bracts. Sepium = sepals showing. Easy peasy. Got it! Here is a close up of those uncovered sepals, making this C.sepium.

On the riverbank we were both delighted to find the parasitic greater dodder (Cuscuta europaea) still in flower (first blogged on 8th August 2011). Here it is scrambling over its nettle host.

Lovely, lovely little flowers.

I managed to find some dodder attempting to parasitize itself, but am reliably informed that the haustoria cannot penetrate dodder's own stems. See Phil's post on dodder at A Digital Botanic Garden.

As we walked alongside the new busway back to the car, 2 things happened which made us stop and stare. First, a bus zoomed past with the driver waving both his arms at us and smiling in a 'look I can drive with no hands' sort of manner. Disconcerting behaviour for a public bus driver until you realise the busway is guided and the driver is actually meant to be hands-free. (See addenda below.)

And second, this mullein caught our attention. It didn't look like great mullein (Verbascum thapsus). So down went bags, out came books and floral keys were consulted.

The plant was shorter than great mullein but still very hairy although not as woolly. The stem was ridged.

The flowers were large and showy. We thought it might be orange mullein (Verbascum phlomoides).....

.....but, I took this photo (below) of what I think is orange mullein in a neighbour's garden yesterday. Orange mullein is a garden variety and a frequent escapee into the wild. Love those woolly stamens.

So we came to no firm conclusion on id. Any help gratefully received.

Some hops (Humulus lupulus) were scrambling about by the track.

The etymology of Humulus is unclear but may be linked to humus or rich soil. Lupulus is from the Latin lupus, a wolf. Mrs Grieve cites Pliny as describing how hops were grown amongst osiers (ahha!!) and they strangled the willow wands as a wolf might strangle a sheep. Do wolves strangle sheep? The word hop is from the Anglo Saxon word hoppan which means to climb.

The cone-like female flowers are called strobiles; the parts of the plant used to make beer taste bitter. I think they smell lovely. When I opened these pictures of hops to edit for the blog, I could actually smell hops for a few seconds. Weird sensation :-)

Another enjoyable day at Fen Drayton and great to share with a fellow botanist.

I make no apology for blogging about dodder or grass poly over and over and over again. Both are simply amazing plants.

If you are not a member of the RSPB (and why not?) then I'd encourage you to join here.
Update: There are 3 upcoming events at Fen Drayton;
30th September: Autumn Birds
5th October: Stars at Night
8th october: Fungus Foray

Addenda
The guided busway between Cambridge, St Ives and Huntingdon opened on 7th August 2011. I just happened to be visiting the reserve that day. Here is the busway looking towards Cambridge.

And a bus on the way to St Ives.

Fen Drayton RSPB reserve now has its own bus stop.

Busway information re. timetables and fares is here. The buses are flash. They have leather seats and air con (OK, so has my car) + free wifi and plug sockets (not got that though).

On The Pinnacle

2011-09-19T12:59:00.005+01:00

This morning I wanted to go sit on a high cliff and look at the sea. Then I woke up in Bedfordshire. We don't have cliffs or mountains or the sea here. Bedfordshire is, all in all, remarkably flat. But, there are places one can go to escape and sit, and lose one's self in the view.

Sandy Pinnacle is one such place. It lies just to the west of Sandy, over the railway and is a public recreational area. It's an outcrop of the Lower Greensand. And here is a rather tenuous link with the sea; the sand was laid down over a 100 million years ago on the shores of warm shallow sea. So I can look at the sea from a sort of cliff, but about a 100 million years too late. Hey ho.

Here is the recreation ground at the foot of The Pinnacle. It's a rather nice bit of acid grassland. The Pinnacle is straight ahead.

The East Coast mainline is just to my left.

A few steep steps and I am at the top. Only a little puffed. And here is the vista from the top of The Pinnacle. A view of Sandy.

Actually that panorama is a bit squished. Sorry about that. Sandy is a small town that sits on the River Ivel in the broad Ivel Valley. The valley was formed during the last ice age. Here is a view of the centre of Sandy.

And here to the left is Sandye Place, now the school. And to the right, the church.

If you look south, you can see the A1; the busy, vital, historic trunk road linking London and Edinburgh via York. Having made the mistake of clicking on the Wikipedia page whilst writing this blog (yes, the A1 has its own page) I find that the A1 is in fact the longest numbered road in the UK at 410 miles long. My day is brighter knowing that fact. More worrying though is that I probably won't forget it.

Further south still the edge of the chalky Chilterns are just discernible on long zoom.

And up in the cloudless blue sky; the moon.

I am always amazed that there are so few people on The Pinnacle when I go up there. I know it's a work day today, but even at weekends, it's never busy.

Just in front of the bench (there's only one bench now as the other one was removed a short while ago) is a patch of annual nettle (Urtica urens); a much neater plant than the straggly perennial stinging nettle (Urtica dioica).

Black nightshade (Solanum nigrum) is never one to miss an opportunity to colonise bare disturbed ground.

The pale lemon flowers of smooth sow-thistle (Sonchus oleraceus) were enjoying the autumn sunshine.

I'd not noticed the underside of the sow-thistle petals have a pinkish tinge. Nor had I seen, until I downloaded the photos, that there are milky droplets of sap on the bud.

I didn't expect to find a purple Petunia in the nettle patch.

It's a fine place to sit on a sunny day.

But, the steep sandy slopes are eroding badly.

The typical vegetation here is pedunculate oak (Quercus robur), gorse (Ulex europaeus) and broom (Cytisus scoparius).

On this eroding sandy bank, oak trees somehow manage to get a purchase. Where the sand has been eroded, their exposed gnarled and tangled roots look like sculptures.

On the wooded bank I found a number of what I believe are parasol mushrooms.

Another unknown mushroom, with amazing markings, was lurking in the shadows under the oaks. UPDATE: Abbey Meadows has suggested this is the sepia bolete Boletus porosporus. Looks good to me.

If you scramble down the bank, you get to the East Coast mainline.

On the way home I passed some lovely blue fleabane (Erigeron acris) still in flower.

I tried to get a close-up, with less glare from the sun, but messed it up a bit. The little petals, which never fully unfurl, are a deeper purple than I have noticed before.

Further Information
Case Study of Sandy Pinnacle by Bedfordshire RIGS here
The Local Geological Site Designation is here

An Agrimonious Ode

2011-09-18T15:21:00.008+01:00

Agrimony (Agrimonia eupatoria) is one of our most beautiful wildflowers. Its tall yellow flower-spikes grace our summer hedgerows and meadows. It deserves a post all to itself.

Agrimonia eupatoria, St Margaret's, Kent, July 2009

Agrimonia is possibly derived from the Greek argemone, suggesting that agrimony was once used for eye complaints (Hensel, 2008). I am not under the impression it ever was used thus, and probably names of things got transferred hither and thither. The naming of plants was a mess until Linnaeus arrived and sorted it all out. Actually argemone is the name of a genus of poppies; prickly poppies to be precise. The word was apparently first used by the Greek medical botanist Dioscorides to describe a poppy used for cataracts.

Agrimony flower spikes Kingsdown Road, Kent, July 2009

The etymology of eupatoria is as follows. Mithridates Eupator of Pontus (134–63 BC) was a King and renowned polyglot. He had 6 wives and many mistresses. His first wife was his sister Laodice. Not relevant really but interesting. He must have been terrified of assassination, because mythology says he tried to make himself immune to poisons; he believed he could do this by taking minute doses of poisons over many years. It is said that Mithridates created a 'universal antidote' to poisons; mithridate or mithridatum. One medieval version of this antidote had 54 ingredients.

Agrimony flowers, Lydden Down, Kent, July 2008

Although the link with eyes is probably spurious, agrimony has been used as a herbal medicine for millennia. The parts used are the stems, leaves and flowering tops, gathered during flowering (BHMA, 2003). Indications for use given in the most recent British Herbal Medicine Association (BHMA) guide include; diarrhoea in children, mucous colitis, grumbling appendicitis, urinary incontinence and cystitis. (All of which, it goes without saying, should be treated by a medical doctor, not herbs.)

It is also used as a gargle for pharyngeal inflammation (a roundabout flouncy way of saying 'sore throat') and topically on the skin for mild inflammatory conditions. So it's recommended as a tea, a tincture or a wound dressing. Rigorous scientific evidence for clinical effectiveness for any of these uses is extremely limited (Barnes, et al., 2002).

Agrimony flowers

Agrimony is categorised as a gentle astringent herb. Astringency is that dry, puckery feeling you get in your mouth after drinking black tea. It's caused by tannins, which bind salivary proteins and leave you with that dry mouth feeling. Try nibbling the inside of a banana skin (or better still drink a glass of red wine). That's the feeling. It's from the Latin, adstringere, to bind fast.

Agrimony leaves

John Gerard (1597, page 575), always to be relied upon for some glorious word-smithing, says this of agrimony; 'the decoction of the leaves of Egremonie is good for them that have naughtie livers, and for such as pisse blood upon the diseases of the kidneis'.

'Naughtie livers' :-)

Agrimony growing down the Sandy to Bedford cycle track 2008.

What did Nicholas Culpeper say about agrimony? I like Culpeper. He was a rebel. He was the 17th century radical astrologer herbalist who upset the College of Physicians and the Society of Apothecaries by publishing not only their remedies in vernacular English (rather than scholarly impenetrable Latin), but went further by selling those remedies cheaper than they did and criticised them in print into the bargain.

Agrimony on the cycle track; Sandy to Bedford

We know now that Culpeper's astrology and reliance on humoral medicine is bunkum, but it is interesting to read nonetheless. Here is his astrological, humoral take on agrimony; 'It is moderately hot and moist, according to the nature of Jupiter. It is under Jupiter and the sign Cancer, and strengthens those parts under the planet or sign, and removes diseases in them by sympathy, and those under Saturn, Mars and Mercury by antipathy, if they happen in any part of the body, governed by Jupiter, or under the signs Cancer, Sagittarius or Pisces; and therefore must needs be good for the gout' (Culpeper, 1653).

Meh? Non sequitur alert. In fact his entire philosophy is out to lunch. It was the 17th century after all. Thank goodness for The Enlightenment and modern medicine.

Agrimony spike drooping over Kingsdown Road, July 2009

Agrimony has some lovely local English names. Grigson (1973) lists some: fairy's wand, lemonade, money-in-both-pockets and sweethearts. Law (1973) adds sticklewort to the list. Grigson also says that the Anglo-Saxons used agrimony (and plantain and bistort) to make a paste that could treat snake bite. There is an old rhyme that runs thus;

'He that hath sticklewort by

Knows no snake shall draw him nigh'

Agrimony, which the Anglo-Saxons called garclive (Fetrow and Avila, 2000) was also a component in a magical poly-herb salve that could keep goblins at bay. A jolly useful herb all in all.

Agrimony, Lydden Down, July 2010

Agrimony has an incredibly efficient seed dispersal strategy. Its seeds are burrs and attach to one's clothes with great tenacity.

Agrimony, Sandy, August 2008

I woke up last Sunday morning with 6 uninvited guests in my bed; agrimony seeds. I must have picked them up on a walk. I like to read in bed, in the middle of the day, wrapped under my duvet. The seeds must have been attached to my clothes, most likely on my socks.

Agrimony velcro, Tempsford, August 2011

Here they are on my very (I notice with some shame) dusty laptop. I may plant them in the spring.

Hitchhikers, September 11th 2011

I recall a glorious sunny day in Kent 2 years ago. I was wandering down Kingsdown Road from St Margaret's, just exploring and enjoying the flowers, and agrimony was spilling out of the verge.

The verge down Kingsdown Road, St Margaret's is just lovely.

Happiness :-)

Agrimony and friends on Kingsdown Road, Kent, July 2009

Here is the stunning wildflower verge along Kingsdown Road, in 2009. Lots of agrimony down there (although not in this photo!). Lovely jubbly.

Stunningly lush verge, Kingsdown Road, St Margaret's Kent, July 2009

Bibliography
Barnes J, Anderson LA and Phillipson, JD (2002) Herbal Medicines. 2nd Edition. London: Pharmaceutical Press.
British Herbal Medicine Association (2003) A Guide to Traditional Herbal Medicines. BHMA Publishing: Dorset
Culpeper, N (1653) The Complete Herbal. (Link here to page on agrimony from Bibliomania)
Fetrow, CW and Avila, JR (2000) The Complete Guide to Herbal Medicines. Springhouse: USA
Gerard, J (1597) Great Herball, or Generall Historie of Plantes. The full text is here on Botanicus.
Grigson, Geoffrey (1975) The Englishman’s Flora. Paladin
Hensel, W (2008) Black's Nature Guides: Medicinal Plants of Britain & Europe. A&C Black: London.
Law, D (1973) The Concise Herbal Encyclopedia. John Bartholomew & Son: Edinburgh.

Richard Feynman's Ode on a flower from a BBC Horizon interview in 1981, is seminal and beautiful, and also inspired this post. His words are always there, somewhere in the back of my mind when I look at plants. His enthusiasm and wonder in the natural world is magnetic. For me he also captures the essence of Darwin's famous line that 'there is a grandeur in this view of life'. Video here [The full version can be found easily on You Tube].

Pots of cash

2011-09-15T13:53:00.005+01:00

Sunday was a fine day. Blustery and changeable. I headed off up the A1 to Hinchingbrooke Country Park, just over the border into Huntingdonshire, to help a friend with the biannual plant sale in aid of the local wildlife trust.

Hinchingbrooke CP is just west of Huntingdon, near to Hinchingbrooke School, formerly an 11th century nunnery, later a manor house owned by the Cromwell family and later still owned by the Earls of Sandwich. Oliver Cromwell and Samuel Pepys were both locals. The country park was part of the estate of Hinchingbrooke House.

Nancy Dawson has been running volunteer plant sales at Hinchingbrooke since 1990 - for 21 years. These amateur plant sales have raised heaps of cash for the wildlife trust to buy land for nature conservation. We set up everything in the morning under rather ominous skies.

The plants are all fantastic value; sold with good advice as to where to plant them and what wildlife they might attract.

It was incredibly gusty on Sunday, the tail of Hurricane Katia I guess. Plants and chairs got blown over a number of times. They were not the only things to get blown off course over the weekend. The RSPB reported that storm petrels, shearwaters and guillemots have all been blown inland and stranded - even in Birmingham!

Nancy first opened her own garden to the public in 1976, to raise funds for the wildlife trust. She did this till 2001. The initial impetus was raising cash to buy three key reserves: Waresley Wood, Upwood Meadow and Felmersham Gravel Pits. Hoards of people queued down the road to attend these incredibly popular local events. Her philosophy was simple: Why throw away your excess plants? Why not pot them up and make some cash for your favoured charity? Unlike many of us (I speak about myself) she actually did it, and didn't just think it.

When she retired as an employee of the wildlife trust in 1986, she immediately set up the Garden Group. She and her husband successfully petitioned for the wildlife trust to set up a reserves acquisition fund so any money from plant sales would go specifically towards buying land for nature conservation. Over the years money has been raised to go towards the purchase of; Kings Wood, Heath and Reach, Houghton Meadows, Pegsdon Hills and Flitwick Moor.

During the afternoon, while everyone else was working, I took a stroll around the country park. I've been to Hinchingbrooke CP a few times but never noticed the little wildlife garden by the visitor centre and cafe.

The luscious succulent ice plant (Sedum spectabile) was just starting to put on a fine show as a late nectar source. The few bees who'd braved the gusty winds were diving in enthusiastically.

In the damp meadow I was delighted to find this lovely green-veined white (Pieris napi) keeping out of the wind low down in the vegetation. (I'd stopped to tie up my shoe laces otherwise I'd have missed it.) Pieris in ancient Greek means 'a muse'. And napi derives from both Latin and Greek for 'mustard', one of the this butterfly's many host plants. I'd never noticed before how peppermint green they are. I think this may be a male? Lovely, lovely.

I actually never got very far with my walk as I found myself quite entranced lying on a pond dipping platform, leaning over the edge and seeing this pond snail upside down using the surface tension to glide across the water. Wow!

I believe this is Lymnaea stagnalis. What an amazingly beautiful creature. I willingly spent 20 minutes of my life watching this graceful animal grazing on the detritus and vegetation at the pond edge. (I found it quite hard to deal with the sun glare so apologies for that.)

It was so peaceful just lying there, watching. The dragonflies I'd come to photograph wouldn't land near me anyway. I was going to chuck this next photo away as it's quite fuzzy, but then I noticed that the snail is taking a breath of air (I think). Snorkelling really.

Pond snails have very vascularised tentacles, which enable them to effectively respire underwater and only come up for air occasionally. It's a very relaxing past-time watching pond snails gliding.

Back at the plant sale everyone else in the Garden Group was busy (I really am just padding). Overall though, it was a quiet day, perhaps due to the changeable weather, but the sale still raised about £300 for the local wildlife trust :-)

The Garden Group have been active, with Nancy as their catalyst, for over 25 years. This was her last plant sale. She reckons (on the back of an envelope, so I suspect this is an underestimate) that these plant sales have raised over £80,000 for the wildlife trust. Wow, wow, wow! When you think that this money has added value when combined with Landfill Tax Credits - that's a HUGE contribution to nature conservation in this area. Just from leftover plants from people's gardens.

On Tuesday I went to Priory Country Park, Bedford, to help (in the broadest possible sense of the word) Nancy and another friend in the little wildlife garden there. My 'help' on this particular day, consisted of cutting a few plants back and well, taking photos, and then drinking tea. Here is the lake at the country park. It was very gusty again. There were flocks of martins feeding over the water.

The park has one of those ugly loos. I've never been in one as I have a dread the door may open when...well....I just don't use them. Fortunately we can use the staff facilities when helping in the garden. Phew.

So, here is the wildlife garden gate.

The garden was planted in 1985/86 and is a quiet little haven.

I really should have taken some photos in the summer.

This morning, under a rock, we were delighted to find part of the shed skin of a grass snake (Natrix natrix). The head is clearly visible.

The scientific name natrix is possibly from the Latin, natare, which means, to swim. Grass snakes are nifty swimmers and the skin was found right next to the pond. They moult (ecdysis) at least once a year and the skin is sloughed off inside out. Good to know they are about.

It was jolly windy but I did just about manage to catch this spindle fruit (Eunonymus europaeus) in mid-swing. I love the shocking pink colour.

Spindle is a hard wood and was used to make spinning spindles; hence the name. It was also used to fashion skewers and toothpicks, and the keys on virginals (Barker, 2001). The fruits are poisonous (pink for poison) to humans, and can cause liver and kidney damage. The seeds are cardiotoxic (Barker, 2001). All in all best avoided. Birds guzzle them up though and spread the seeds in their poo.

This blog post is a paltry effort to pay homage to someone who was not only a guiding light when the Bedfordshire Wildlife Trust first started, but has put enormous effort in over the years running open gardens and plant sales (and the Priory wildlife garden) to secure a future for conservation in this area. She also inspires others, myself included.

Bibliography

Barker J (2001) The Medicinal Flora of Britain and Northwestern Europe. Winter Press: Kent.

A case of mis-steaken identity?

2011-09-08T10:40:00.005+01:00

Autumn is most definitely here. Fleeces out. Time to snuggle up warm. But the weather wasn't too bad on Saturday, so we ventured to Old Warden to stretch our legs.

There's a car park by St Leonard's church (Grid reference: TL 13599 44283). We did a shortened version of this walk.

Before walking it was time for lunch. The picnic table in the carpark is fashioned from a huge old oak stump.

I'll let you into a secret: I'm a tree hugger. This one was admittedly tricky as I had to pretend to hug it. The best hugging position is breast height, but that wasn't possible here. It was about 3.5 of my hugs round the stump. Oaks with girths of over 3 adult hugs (and as I'm petite my hugs are just a little less than adult size) are probably ancient trees. For oaks, I usually go on one hug=one hundred years. This tree must have been at least 350 years old when felled.

So when this tree was a sapling in maybe the 1660s...Samuel Pepys was writing his diary, Isaac Newton was beavering away on his ideas, the Royal Society was born, Charles II was on the throne, the Great Plague swept the country, the Fire of London consumed the capital and the Dutch stole the Royal Charles from under our very noses in the Medway. They auctioned her for scrap. Now we just scrap with them over a leather ball...or not, as the last match was postponed due to the riots.

A picnic table is a humble end for such a grand old tree. At the base of the stump I noticed a large russet bracket fungus.

Ha ha! I actually know what this is! Fistulina hepatica; beefsteak fungus. I peeled back the top, a wee bit, just out of curiosity...wow!!!

All the books say that this fungus looks like raw steak and is the colour of raw liver (hence hepatica). It does and it is! Quite remarkable.

I didn't pick it, although it is apparently edible when young, but left it for others to be amazed at. It typically grows on the lower part of the stump of old oaks (and sweet chestnut). I sniffed it, almost expecting the smell of meat, but it was innocuous.

So, to walking. This part of Bedfordshire is blessed with some great woodlands and grand open views.

My plant id skills were tested momentarily...

...Pinus antennensis.

All that effort for a fake-bark look in the middle of a wood. Meh?

I can only identify a few fungi by name. This is, I believe, a common earth ball.

And these cute little grey parasols in the middle of the bridleway are...I've no idea.

The berries on this cherry laurel looked lush, but are not for eating. It was probably planted for game cover. Laurel leaves were used by entomologists in 'killing jars' to kill insects for preservation and collection. Now we have digital cameras. When crushed cherry laurel leaves smell of almonds and release cyanide. The seeds also contain amygdalin and cyanogenic glycosides. Best kept away from cherry pies.

The smell of laurel flowers in spring is lovely. Here in bloom at Wrest Park in April.

A wobbly panoramic shot across the fields.

A lush green corridor, near Sweet Briar Farm.

I don't often see big holm oaks (Quercus ilex) in hedgerows, but this one is rather fine.

Holm is the lovely old English word for holly. The lower leaves on young plants resemble holly leaves (holly being Ilex aquifolium, hence Quercus ilex). This picture was taken at Kingsdown, Kent in June.

The bark is distinctive and described as reticulated (a network of small squares). The only other time I recall hearing the word reticulation was when I was in Western Australia, where reticulated lawns were, for some people, highly desirable. All that water wasted to achieve a green lawn. Hmm.

A little holm acorn.

Also in the hedgerow; Midland or woodland hawthorn (Crataegus laevigata) with its deep red berries.

To distinguish it from common hawthorn (Crataegus monogyna) see how many seeds the berries contain. Midland has 2 seeds, common has one (mono = one).

Here is a single-seeded common hawthorn for comparison (although I wonder if this is a hybrid as the leaves are not that deeply cut).

In the picture below; common to the left is deeply lobed, Midland to the right is more rounded.

A snout was hiding in the hedge too.

Hare's a lovely sight...way in the distance...a harey moment.

I don't know if this is a male or female hare. I guess they must know and that's what's important. But hare's an interesting and important fact to liven up the day: male hares have their scrotum in front of their penis. Unsure why that's significant but Wikipedia mentions it so I thought I'd just pass it on.

I've only once seen hares boxing in spring, and that was very briefly. I used to think this was males slugging it out, but it's actually female hares saying 'No thank you' (a link to a snippet of an article from Nature is here).

Just checking...

...safe to keep grazing...for now

Oh-oh, humans!

Whenever I see hares, I wonder how can anyone chase these beautiful animals, with dogs, for sport. The previous Labour government, to their eternal credit, brought in the Hunting Act 2004. Long overdue. The public enquiry at the time found "that being pursued, caught and killed by dogs during coursing seriously compromises the welfare of the hare". No! Really?

Shuttleworth Agricultural College (Old Warden Park) is visible over the fields. The building was designed by architect Henry Clutton in the late 19th century. Good to see that dead oak left standing.

The Shuttleworth estate also houses the Shuttleworth Collection of aeroplanes, vintage cars, etc.. I admit, in the time I've been Bedfordshire, that I've not yet visited. Must fix that. There was an airshow on...

..with some magnificent men in little flying machines.

Looks exhilarating.

Mud, mud, glories in mud

2011-09-03T19:27:00.011+01:00

Thursday was wall to wall sunshine with clear blue skies and was most assuredly the perfect day for me to revisit RSPB Fen Drayton. And the sunshine was very important for this visit.

(The photo above was actually taken on a cooler, cloudier day a few weeks back.)
My first stop was close to the car-park. Sticky groundsel grows prolifically in the gravelly area just through the kissing gate. Senecio viscosus, to give it its scientific name, literally means, sticky old man. The seed heads are white and fluffy like a mop of white hair. The yellow flowers are drop dead gorgeous and worth a pause for full appreciation.

A UV picture of the flowers is here (I have to disagree with the comment underneath the UV photo on this site as I think this is a beautiful flower). Sticky groundsel is a plant of freely-drained areas, including coastal shingle. It's a neophyte (a plant which arrived in the UK after 1500), first recorded in the UK 1660, and now expanding its range (although maritime plants may be native).

The plant is covered with sticky glandular hairs, which give it its greeny-grey look. I love the way the petals (ray florets) curl back as the flowerhead finishes. And it is deliciously sticky.

After getting my fill of sticky groundsel (it took a good few minutes), I ventured off in search of a very special plant. On the way I passed water mint (Mentha aquatica), giving itself away, before I even saw the lilac flowers, by the wonderful aromatic scent wafting up to stimulate my olfactory organs as my feet crushed its leaves.

And I always enjoy seeing gypsywort (Lycopus europaeus).

Finally, I came to the spot I'd been directed to. My quarry was a small (about 10cm tall) plant which frequents ephemeral pools and muddy scrapes. Callaghan (1958) describes it as a 'scarce annual of disturbed ground dependent on winter flooding'. Let me introduce the wonderful grass poly (Lythrum hyssopifolium (although see my comment at the end of this post regarding its botanical name)).

OK. That doesn't look too exciting really does it? Especially being over-exposed like that. But it is. It really is. Grass poly is a specialised little plant with very particular habitat requirements. It likes mud; flooded in winter, dried out in spring. And it's so easy to overlook, looking to all intents and purposes like a knotgrass. Until you get down on your knees (in those muddy wet hollows it so favours) to look at its delicate pink flowers, which only open in sunshine. One has to throw dignity to the wind to get photos of these plants. So bottoms up then...

Grass poly is rare. It is protected under Schedule 8 of the Wildlife & Countryside Act 1981 and listed in the UK Red Data Book. It occurs on few sites in the UK now; here at Fen Drayton, on agricultural land near Fowlmere in Cambridgeshire, Slimbridge reserve in Gloucestershire (where it is very numerous) and most notably a newly discovered site in Kent at Fowlmead Country Park. It seems to have found a stronghold in scrapes on wildfowl reserves, now it's almost banished from agricultural land due to large scale land drainage.

Yay! Glorious!

Grass poly is also called hyssop loosestrife after its supposed resemblance to hyssop (Hyssopus officinalis), an aromatic herb with small blue flowers. They are not actually related. The following picture of hyssop was taken by Armin Jagel at Ruhr University Botanic Garden. It is used here from Wikipedia under a Creative Commons Attribution-Share Alike 3.0 Unported license.

When you look carefully at grass poly, its kinship with purple loosestrife (Lythrum salicaria) is plain to see. Purple loosestrife is tall and showy, but the flowers and fruits are similar to its smaller, rarer relative. This lush purple loosestrife is growing in my garden pond.

I was still on a high from seeing the poly so omitted to check the identification of this water speedwell (Veronica spp.). Pink or blue? I know not.

And I believe the plant below is trifid burr marigold (Bidens tripartita). The leaves are serrated and the flowers lack ray florets (in this case), although most of the plants I saw were heavily grazed and the flowers were spent. Again I must claim poly-over-excitement as the reason for my sloppiness. Well, it's a Bidens anyway!

While at Fen Drayton I also wanted to return to see the parasitic greater dodder (Cuscuta europaea) on the River Great Ouse (blogged here).

The dodder was well past its best, being mostly brown and shrivelled. A few bits were looking less autumnal though.

I tried to get close-ups of dodder's haustoria (the bits that penetrate the nettle stem which the dodder parasitizes) but can't quite (understatement alert) rival Phil's pictures on A Digital Botanic Garden.

A kingfisher flitted past and the swans were splashing about in the river.

Lovely birds.

There were clouds of bat grub.

Fen Drayton was really beautiful in the sunshine. I looked for a black tern I'd been told might be flying over the site, but it was a no show.

On the edge of the lake, last time I visited, I found a leech in the shallows.

I've no idea what species, but it looked quite listless.

No leeches on this visit, but I did rescue a forest bug (Pentatoma rufipes) from the water. It got a bit sandy at first...

...but soon dried off.

I put it in some vegetation nearby and wished it well.

I sat back to enjoy the vista. There was little to mar the peaceful lakeside atmosphere until some dogs charged into the water. Hmmm. Dogs can't read, but people can.

My complaints to the owners elicited the response that, 'There's enough room for all of us here'. Well, no there isn't. Fen Drayton is a nature reserve. And we have nature reserves like this because clearly (to me at least) there is not enough room for all of us and for the special birds who live here. Nature reserves are reserved for nature. For the birds. Not for dogs.

Lythrum hyssopifolia or Lythrum hyssopifolium?
It seems there is some confusion in the literature re. the correct scientific name of this plant. Some say hyssopifolia, some say hyssopifolium. Confusingly the US Department of Agriculture, on one website calls it L. hyssopifolium L. and on another website calls it L. hyssopifolia L. Hmmm. OK. If we go back to the original Linnaean text of the Species Plantarum, Volume 1, page 447, the correct name appears to be Lythrum hyssopifolia L.. But, and I am not a Latin scholar, Lythrum the generic name, has a neuter ending 'um' so, perhaps the specific name should also be neuter? So is hyssopifolium grammatically correct? Maybe not. In this short discussion from 1998, much of which goes over my head, some grammatical mysteries called 'nouns in apposition' are mentioned (I missed that day at school) and 'neither can be altered to agree in gender with the noun (Lythrum) they modify'. I retire here, as I am way out of my depth!

Bibliography & Further Information
Callaghan DA (1958) Biological Flora of the British Isles: Lythrum hyssopifolium L. Journal of Ecology, Volume 58, Issue 6, Pages 1065-72.
Callaghan, DA (1996) The conservation status of Lythrum hyssopifolia L. in the British Isles. Watsonia, Volume 21, Pages 197-86
Here's more info on Fen Drayton from the Cambridge Bird Club.
I was inspired to go to seek out this little plant by blogger Kingsdowner in Kent. I had exact directions of where to find the plant, he however achieved the Herculean task of tracking it down in Fowlmead Country Park, only knowing that it occurred somewhere on the site. Chapeau.

After rain...

2011-08-28T22:50:00.001+01:00

Aagh, curse the weather! Undaunted by the forecast, and spurred on by a chat with a friend this week, we decided to go in search of plants near Northill, a hamlet in Bedfordshire, about 5 miles from home.

First off, a visit to College Wood, Northill (GR TL 14155 46713). There's room for a couple of cars by the entrance (which is not used, as it is blocked by a huge old stump).

A tatty speckled wood was sunning itself on the gate. As usual I spooked it before getting close enough for a decent picture.

An admiral of the red did oblige...

...as did a comma, albeit from a distance.

The late summer vegetation was toppling over and jolly damp. Glad I wore my new wellies. Common fleabane (Pulicaria dicentrica) is just fine, even when toppled.

Many blackberries were well past their best with the recent drenching. Some were rotten. I thought the devil spat on them at Michaelmas (29th September)?

A herd of earwigs were hanging out in this old angelica leaf, as earwigs do. Looks fun.

The hairy rhophalid bug, Corizus hyoscyami looked resplendent in its aposematic (warning) livery. It's about the right timing for this bug, as the new generation of adults are seen in August-September.

Staying with the hairy theme, I've been seeing this little beastie around lately. It has a hairy butt and flapping feet. I wonder if it's the tachinid fly Tachina fera? These guys (I only say 'guy' 'cos of the bristly bits) parasitize other insects, often caterpillars.

The local red bartsia (Odontites verna) population contained many individuals which were decidedly light pink. Quite distinctive.

A stripey hoverfly caught my attention. I believe this is Helophilus pendulus. It's name means 'dangling swamp lover'. I'd identify anything as Helophilus pendulus just to write 'dangling swamp lover' in my blog.

I can't think of any excuses for the quality of my photos today; must have been the thundery weather and the associated fluctuations in atmospheric pressure. I put this blurry picture in, just to clinch the identification. DSL has a 'deep U shaped bend' on the 3rd long vein on the wing (Chinery,1986). I think this is it.

And then, just when my little logophilic cup was filled to the brim; more entomological delight! I chanced across the one insect I've always wanted to see. Not because it's rare or garishly coloured or freaky (actually it is) but because it has the most, absolutely, the most fantastical name in the whole world; Gasteruption jaculator. It's the kind of word I wouldn't have been allowed to use as child, as someone might have mistakenly thought I was saying something else.

The etymology is probably as follows; 'gast' is Greek, from gaster meaning stomach, and eruption means to break out. These insects parasitize the larvae of solitary bees. Jaculator is Latin, a Roman javelin thrower. To jaculate is to throw a weapon or dart. I guess if you misthrow or you throw too soon and your javelin falls short of the mark, that would be a premature jaculation (sorry). This female, with her impossibly long, white-tipped ovipositor, her 'dart', was nectaring feverishly. Fantastic :-)

Across the road from College Wood is Home Wood. It's a lovely mosaic of habitats and contains a network of medieval fish-ponds and rabbit warrens. Walking through the wood was quite dark so we ventured out along the edge of the arable field adjacent.

Diamonds on the ground; the flowers of round-leaved fluellen (Kickxia spuria) are little jewels.

Sharp-leaved fluellen (Kickxia elatine) has striking halberd-shaped leaves. A mouse-eye view might look something like this...

Many-seeded goosefoot (Chenopodium polyspermum) was seeding prolifically everywhere.

Other plants seen included; dwarf and sun spurge, marsh cudweed, prickly sowthistle, black bindweed, scarlet pimpernel, field madder (here overexposed with a fluellen flower)...

The colours a cloudy sky goes when it changes...

The storm clouds were still swirling overhead, it was spitting and thundery, and windy of course. And then, a stunning little gem; trailing St John's wort (Hypericum humifusum).

Not what I expected in an arable field and I was a little wary of my identification, so worth risking muddy knees and elbows to get down to see this decumbent little beauty properly. I couldn't detect raised ridges on the stem with my fingers but a hand lens revealed them (there was a thunder storm going on overhead at the time). The leaves were perforated with translucent dots and edged with little black dots, as were the petals (which were only a little longer than the sepals).

Back in the woods, this lovely dragonfly gave me seconds to snap it basking on an oak leaf in a damp woodland glade. If you gave me a penny for my dragonfly identification skills, you'd get change. Looking in the book (odonatists turn away now and snigger), this looks most like a vagrant yellow-winged darter...

To finish on a sad note, well, not everything in life has a happy ending, 2 forlorn and sluggish bush crickets. A male oak bush-cricket in the field who could barely move, perhaps knocked down during the storm.

And this weirdly swollen female speckled bush-cricket, waiting on the car.

I've no idea what is wrong with this poor lady, but she was dragging herself along and fiddling with her jaws a lot. I put her on a nearby gate post...

...but thought better of it, and went back and placed her in some vegetation.

After rain we walk in the greenfields once again...
...well, the forecast looks better for this week, so let's hope so :-)

More information
Chinery M (1986) Collins Guide to the Insects of Britain and Western Europe. Collins.

I didn't realise College Wood, Northill was sold last year. The sale brochure makes interesting reading and includes a site map, if you're interested.

The walk through Home Wood, Northill, is along the Greensand Ridge Walk, between points 3 and 4 on this route map.

The fishponds in Home Wood are a scheduled ancient monument.

Plantlife have produced a scoring sheet for arable fields based on the plant species found. It's useful to carry a copy when out walking. The field edge I walked along had 5 species of interest that caught my ill-informed eye; sharp-leaved and round-leaved fluellen, dwarf spurge, field madder and many-seeded goosefoot.

On page 75 of Blamey, Fitter and Fitter (Domino Guide: Wildflowers of Britain & Ireland, 2003) the illustration shows flax-leaved St Johns wort (Hypericum linariifolium) in cross-section with ridges down the stem, but the text says, it is ridgeless. I wonder if the illustrations got mixed up and the stem section is for trailing St John's wort (Hypericum humifusum), which does have ridges on its stem?

Stealth flying

2011-08-27T23:05:00.004+01:00

Tempsford airfield is a special place; an open, flat Bedfordshire landscape where I can go to be alone. Now intensively farmed, this was a top secret airfield during WWII from whence special agents were flown into occupied territory.

Not even the locals knew what went on at the site. The old runways are still there.

This secret airfield was used by the Special Operations Executive. It was a base for 2 legendary RAF squadrons: 138 (Special Duties Squadron) and 161, which dropped agents and supplies behind enemy lines in Europe. The Germans apparently knew of it, but never discovered its location. There is little evidence of the airfield today. Just the old runways and an inconspicuous little barn.

As I walked to the barn, I spotted a few plants of what looked like amaranth growing on the verge (Amaranthus retroflexus I think). I've always thought 'amaranth' is a romantic sounding word. Spurred on by writing this I looked up its etymology (on Wikipedia). It's apparently from the Greek ἀμάραντος (amarantos) meaning unfading. The Greek for flower is ἄνθος (anthos). Yup, romantic.

This pretty clover looks to me like alsike clover (Trifolium hybridum). It's named after Alsike in Sweden, where it was first cultivated in the 18th century.

The barn is just off the public right of way. There are no signposts on the path or plaques outside to indicate what it is.

Here's the same shot in March.

There are no doors. It is just open to the elements.

This is an amazingly atmospheric place. I'll not say much more, but just show you some pictures of the inside, incase you never get to visit yourself.

One of the most evocative names found on the memorials at Tempsford is that of Violette Szabo GC, MBE, a secret agent, who flew out from RAF Tempsford on her 2 missions to Europe. She was captured, tortured and executed by the Nazis in 1944. She was 23 and immortalised in the film Carve her Name with Pride. She would have been issued with her equipment from this barn.

Tempsford Veterans Association newsletters are available to read.

The barn was recently renovated by the Countess of Erroll (the landowner).

There were 4 appropriately white doves up in the rafters. One posed for a picture, albeit rather reluctantly.

On the floor of the barn I found 4 tawny owl (Strix aluco) feathers. The extra velvety fluffiness on the top of the feathers helps to muffle the sound of the owl flying, making it a superb silent, stealth hunter.

Outside I came across a tawny owl carcass. Well, part of one. I looked about but couldn't find the skull unfortunately.

The feathers show the characteristic owly fluffiness.

The foot with its 4 sharp talons, even in this decomposed state, shows very clearly how an owl can grasp and hold on to its prey. The scaly rough skin gives the owl a firm grip on wriggling food.

I snapped (not that easy to do) one of the bones. It was hollow; an avian adaptation (not unique to owls) to reduce weight for flight.

I wonder what caused its demise.

Further information
Tempsford airfield is on private farmland. The walks described in this and my previous post are accessed on public footpaths/bridleways via the Skylark Ride waymarked route [and set between points 16 and 17]. Although the barn is just off the public footpath, it is on private property. I have never been challenged when I've been inside and have met, on occasion, other walkers or cyclists pausing to pay their respects.
These websites have more information about the airfield, squadrons and agents who used Tempsford during the war.
http://www.tempsford-squadrons.info/
http://www.tempsford.20m.com/home.html

Reconnaissance at Tempsford Airfield

2011-08-26T11:15:00.006+01:00

After interminably gloomy skies and even, shudder, rain on Wednesday, at last the sun shone and summer returned. Late, yes, but most welcome.

A visit to Tempsford airfield was long overdue. This is the place, a landscape, with which I feel the most emotionally connected in Bedfordshire. I cycle down there often, and just sit and read or lay out on the grass by the barn (of which more later).

The road from Everton down to Tempsford is great fun on a bike (picture was taken from GR TL 19978 51242); it's one of those hills you can just scream down. I've got a hybrid mountain bike, dirt cheap when I got it from Halfords about 5 years ago and worth every penny. I sometimes cycle a slightly different route across the bumpy fields from Swaden (below in May the bike got papped at GR TL 18368 49292).

From Sandy you can reach the airfield via a choice of routes; straight out of town along the bridleway which follows Hassells Hedge (the remnant of a Roman road route that ran from Baldock via Sandy to Godmanchester), or by road by heading up Swaden and along the Everton Road, and cutting down a bridleway from up on the ridge. If you go by car, there's a parking place opposite the drive to Fernbury Farm on the Tempsford Road (at GR TL 19042 51790). From here the paths are easy, concreted farm tracks.

Herb Robert (Geranium robertianum), is still in flower and a welcome companion throughout the summer, with its candy-striped flowers and needle-like seedpods. It had heaps of old local names, so familar was it to our ancestors; my favourite is granny thread the needle. It's also called stinking Robert: It doesn't exactly smell of roses.

The path, now grassed over, carries on, heading north, alongside the hedge.

Late summer spear thistles (Cirsium vulgare), taller than me, were shedding their seeds liberally. The tinkling of small flocks of goldfinches overhead indicated I wasn't the only one to notice.

The hardheads of the ancient wound herb black knapweed (Centaurea nigra) (below) are still looking fine. Grigson (1975) says it was also used as a love charm. Girls picked a flower head, pulled off the expanded florets, put it inside their blouse and then checked again in a hour or so to see if the remaining florets had expanded; this being a sign that love will come their way. Under the weight of camera gear and binoculars I fear if I tried that, the bud would just get squished.

And then you get onto the wider concrete tracks; once the runways. The land is still flat as a pancake and great for cycling.

In May, just by here, I saw a hare galloping through the fields towards me. It didn't see me at first and just came within long-zoom range, then stopped, clocked me and ran off under a hedge (the photo below was taken in May). Hare yesterday, gone today.

More goldfinch snack-bars were lined up along the field edges.

The sun was deliciously warm but it was breezy. The wind flipped up a coltsfoot (Tussilago farfara) leaf revealing its white furry underside. The seedheads (some spent, some closed up) are of 'Jack-go-to-bed-at-noon', meadow salsify (Tragopogon pratensis).

In March I'd photographed the flowers of coltsfoot in the same place; then a cheering sight, a sunny harbinger of spring. Once used herbally for dry coughs (Tussilago means cough soother), we now know it contains pyrrolizidine aklaloids, which can cause liver damage. I'm sticking to honey and lemon. Here are the March sunflowers.

Another gorgeous, but admittedly smelly plant, which grows alongside the old concrete tracks is houndstongue (Cynoglossum officinale). Now dried up, brown and in seed.

This plant reeks of mouse pee. It's great! Really worth smelling and if you've ever stayed in an old house wherein live those furry little pee machines, then you will instantly know this smell. I think the houndstongue is the spur in the middle of the 4 seed capsules, which are most effective at attaching to one's leggings to hitch a ride. I'm a willing carrier for such a lovely plant. The leaves were worn in shoes in the belief they warded off dog attacks. Hmmm. Dogs have a highly evolved sense of smell so perhaps the stench of mouse pee emanating from someone's feet did give them paws for though?

In May, this same plant looked like this. Lush and furry.

With scrummy veined flowers of a deep red/purple. Sigh!

Further on, actually past a place I am going to take you back to visit, the track is lined by the lovely dyers greenweed (Genista tinctoria), now almost past, but you can just see some yellow flowers to the right of the path.

Dyers greenweed is a small shrubby relative of broom. The flowers are a rich deep yellow. A lover of heavy soils, it is very much at home on the calcareous clays in Tempsford.

This is an intensively farmed landscape, not without its share of rubble and dumping of waste.

But, although unsightly for me, these piles of spoil are opportunities for plants. The fuzzy red leaves and pink flowers of red dead nettle (Lamium purpureum) glow in the sun.

This is the same little dead-nettle that makes it bid for world domination in March by taking over patches in dull winter fields by clothing them in blankets of pinky-purple blooms. Here (below) in March, just nearby, a dazzling splash of colour on a cold winter day.

Weld (Reseda luteola) another dyeing plant (dyers rocket), is never shy of grabbing the limelight with its spires of flowers and seizing a colonisation opportunity.

It was near here in May that I had my 'best nicromoth ever' moment, spotting the nationally scarce orange conch (Commophila aeneana). With its 'oily' streaks and day-glo orange wings, it has to be the weirdest and most freaky moth I've ever seen.

A slump in the grass to snaffle an apple and slurp a drink, proved serendipitous. Recent Kentish botanical excursions have introduced me to narrow-leaved birdsfoot trefoil (Lotus glaber). Now I seem to see it everywhere :-)

Here I am in a dry grassy place on heavy soils...and here is lovely NLBFT. Happiness.

The late summer flowers were blooming gorgeous - and no hayfever for me! Yay! Here teasel, ragwort, wild carrot, agrimony.

The burred seeds of agrimony (Agrimonia eupatoria) are an example of natural velcro.

Another long-flowering season plant is wild carrot (Daucus carrota), still in full swing at this time of year.

Many of its flower-heads have a single deep red flower in the centre. It is called Queen Anne's Lace (although that is what my gran used to call cow parsley), the story runs thus; Queen Anne, wife of James 1st (now I can understand why she took up needlepoint), is said to have pricked her finger with a needle whilst making lace. The deep red flower in the middle of the carrot flower is the drop of blood.

Even the spent flower-heads have a beauty and complexity that takes my breath away.

I love the teensy but beautiful flowers of knotgrass (Polygonum aviculare).

Rose hips on the dog rose (Rosa canina)...

...and a smooth pea gall on a dog rose leaf (housing a larvae of the mini-wasp Diplolepis nervosa or D. eglanteriae).

I wandered back down the track. There was no-one about. A lone aeroplane was flying overhead. Flocks of LBJs (Little Brown Jobbies, aka unidentified birds) flitted overhead. The hum of trains on the East Coast line was just discernible. The thrum of the tractor nearby was lulling. The late summer, late afternoon sun was too inviting. I lay back in the stubbly grass and abandoned myself to my inner thoughts.

A 2nd instalment is to follow...once I've woken up...

Notes
I tend to use Grid Reference finder to locate places. http://gridreferencefinder.com/
Geoffrey Grigson (1975) The Englishman’s Flora. Paladin

Figgering it out at Fowlmere

2011-08-23T19:21:00.001+01:00

Fowlmere RSPB reserve as its name suggests, was once open lake or mere, and a home for wildfowl. I don't find it a very inspiring name. The reserve, which lies between Cambridge and Royston, escaped drainage, unlike most of the surrounding area, which is now intensively, industrially farmed. I've been to the reserve a number of times, but never found it, well, very interesting really. Quite dull in fact. Still, I thought, as we were in the area, I'd give it another go. The weather was singularly uninspiring.

Just as we were driving down the reserve track I spotted these ears, way, way in the distance in the middle of a field. A good hare day for me then.

A small meadow near the reserve entrance was a riot of late summer flowers; hemp agrimony, perennial sow-thistle and wild carrot.

It was not, unfortunately a riot of butterflies. There were a few butterflies flitting about though, including this tatty red admiral and a bee with landing gear down.

The water in the streams was crystal clear, fed as it is by natural springs. I am not of a piscatorial bent so have no idea what this is. I'd hazard a guess at a young brown trout.

One of my favourite (I have many) plants is, gypsywort (Lycopus europaeous), found here, in its preferred habitat by water, on the banks of the stream. Lycopus means wolf foot but I'm not sure which bit of the plant this might refer to. [I did find one book which said the rhizome.]

Gypsywort has a few traditional herbal uses, including use as a mild anti-hyperthyroid. I don't have access to my herbal books at the moment (as writing this away from home), to see what they advocate, although I didn't see it used during my herbal training. There is some evidence (here, but I have only read an abstract, not the original paper, and abstracts can be misleading) that its use in mild hyperthyroidism, might give some relief of symptoms like increased heart rate in the morning.

Greater chickweed (Stellaria neglecta) is another plant of damp soils by streams.

At first I thought this rather striking creature (below) was a solitary wasp of some description. There were a good few about and closer inspection showed they don't have waspish waists or the pointed abdomens of wasps, although they are pretty convincing wasp mimics (fooled me, which is not that hard).

Maybe a sawfly? Google came up trumps once I tried 'figwort sawfly' (we saw the insect on figwort). I couldn't get close for a shot so these were all taken on full zoom. So I can name this insect, with a degree of confidence as the figwort sawfly, Tenthredo scrophulariae; Scrophularia being the figwort family.

Pepper saxifrage (Silaum silaus), is not a saxifrage or a pepper, but smells of pepper when crushed (especially the roots). It's an umbellifer. The flowers are a pale creamy yellow and it's a plant of damp meadows, being a pretty reliable marker for ancient meadows. I am pretty sure this is pepper saxifrage, which we found on a small patch of grassland in the reserve. New plant for me and it was pretty distinctive.

The name silaum, means ochre yellow. The name 'saxifrage' given to many non-related plants, is from the Latin saxifraga, "stone-breaker" (saxum "rock" frangere "to break").

I'm not but any means a fungi expert, but this orangey-yellow splurge on some cut willow branches, looks like 'chicken of the woods' or sulphur shelf (Laetiporus sulphureus). Edible I understand.

Common reed (Phragmites australis) was everywhere abundant. Tall reed habitats can feel quite oppressive. Perhaps that is why I find Fowlmere so dull usually. I feel fenced in. I call common reed devil's bit reed as every leaf blade has a 'bite mark' on it; makes it dead easy to identify.

Devil's bit reed is a capital habitat for birds like bittern, bearded tit and marsh harrier, but it is vigorous and can dominate huge areas; not only in fresh water but in brackish water on estuaries and on coastal grazing marsh. In reserves like Fowlmere, although the miniature Dexters, are doing sterling work suppressing its growth in some areas, I assume the site management will involve the hard graft of rotational cutting of the reed to maintain clear areas of water for birds.

The view from Reedbed Hide. It had begun spitting with rain and the light was getting really poor.

From the hide we saw; sand martins feeding overhead, a heron, 5 teal and about 35 mallard sitting peacefully and preening on the water. That is apart from one crazy teal, who clearly had ants or a tick or something. While all the other birds sat quietly, he/she preened for a second, then started darting about and splashing between the other birds, like an excitable child. The mallards quacked disapprovingly. I only managed to get one shot of him/her in flight to remind me of the pleasure it gave me watching this one little duck.

I'm a grasses, sedges and rushes virgin, so have no idea what this rather luxurious plant might be. Next year I am going to tackle them...

Always a pleasure to see Atropa belladonna, deadly nightshade. Such an evocative name and a plant of ill repute, and thus of great interest. Naughty plants are cool.

Its black mini-aubergine-like fruits (it's related to tomatoes and aubergines) look inviting, but are toxic.

Just as we were heading to the car park, I saw this stock dove (I think that is correct), sitting on a gate. It let me approach quite close and I checked to see if it was OK. It flew off, so I assume so. I've never looked closely at stock doves before but it's beak looked really odd.

Although Fowlmere didn't get me ecstatic (as you can probably tell from my muted tones), I did have a fairly relaxing afternoon wandering about and saw some species new to me.

Cambridge Revisited

2011-08-20T21:16:00.001+01:00

Another morning in Cambridge. As we wanted to go on to RSPB Fowlmere later we drove and parked in the Trumpington Park & Ride. But parked and walked. It's only 3 miles into town. The route, generally rather dull and trafficky, get's more interesting nearer the city centre. It takes you past the historic Hobson's Conduit or New River, which runs parallel to Trumpington Road.

Just before the Cambridge Botanic Gardens, the quaint Brookland's Cottage sits right next to the conduit...

...along which many wildflowers thrive, including yellow loosestrife, gipsywort, pendulous sedge and teasel.

Hobson's Conduit was built in the 17th century. Thomas Hobson, the Cambridge carrier, of 'Hobson's Choice' ('This one or none') fame was a benefactor of the scheme. It brought fresh water straight into the heart of the city from the springs near Great Shelford. Below is the monument to Hobson on the corner of Lensfield Road.

Hobson Street, named after this local beneficiary, is just behind Sidney Street a few minutes walk away.

The conduit runs under Lensfield Road then appears as drains down the sides of Trumpington Street, running into town. The east side drain is called Pem (it runs to Pembroke College) and the west side, Pot (which runs to Peterhouse). As I was heading north into town, I am assuming this is the drain called Pem.

It provided me with my first conker of the year.

Just round the corner in Benet Street is a famous old coaching inn, The Eagle. Sadly no time for a beer this morning :-(

It was in this old pub, in 1953, that James Watson and Francis Crick announced their discovery of DNA to the world. Wow!

Their pivotal paper published in Nature on 25th April 1953 contains this delightfully simple statement; 'It has not escaped our notice that the specific pairing we have postulated immediately suggests a possible copying mechanism for the genetic material'. Only a few words but a momentous moment for science.

After business in town was complete, it was time for first lunch. Sandwiches partaken in the company of feathered friends in the botanic gardens was jolly pleasant. This little mallard duckling was most endearing.

The moorhens stole the show though.

I've never taken the time to notice what stunningly handsome birds they are. Clearly it takes time to keep those sleek black feathers in top-notch condition. I hadn't noticed either that birds often close/half-close their eyes when preening. I must have had my eyes shut for years.

The red bill is startlingly red and the adults have red garters at the top of their yellow legs.

The immature birds are brown and just as assiduous as their parents about personal grooming.

Moorhens used to be called water hens; a far more appropriate name for these agile lily trotters.

There was a decidedly criminal element in the moorhen community though. I was mugged during lunch. I'd be interested in any leads as to the identity of this particular criminal, who snuck up and stole a potato from under my very nose. As my camera was on full zoom at the time the mugshot is annoyingly blurry.

Just as we were about to leave, this little guy popped out of the water lily leaves.

Interesting that he/she has the red and yellow bill of the adults, which seems to be lost in the juvenile birds. And...he/she has HUGE feet!

I was entranced watching this fluffy moorhen equivalent of Sasquatch going for a walk.

We saw the water lily bloom...

...but no webs, mirrors or helmets were in evidence, only a rather natty plumed rear-end of this moorhen on the way back to Trumpington Park & Ride.

Next stop, Fowlmere....

Botany for amnesics

2011-08-19T00:27:00.004+01:00

I always enjoy visiting Cambridge, because I get to indulge myself with a floral fix at the University Botanic Garden.

On Wednesday the city was bustling with tourists as ever. I was mistaken for a tourist by a very nice lady who suggested, after she saw me taking photos, that I might like to see the inside of Lloyds TSB on Sidney Street. Hmmm. Curious and although not an account holder, I snuck in. A rather plain building on the outside...

...is a tiled master piece inside. Worth a peek.

A frustrating morning shopping but buying nothing, was followed by packed lunch on the wall outside Kings College Chapel listening to a busker,

under the watchful gaze of Henry VIII (looking a little slimmer here than he might've in real life).

Then a walk past Peterhouse College...

...and the Fitzwilliam Museum (free entry and certainly worth a visit), in Trumpington Street...

...with its lions, who looked in dire need of the services of a prosthodontist.

On past the blooms of hedge bindweed, Calystegia sepium, our own morning glory, spilling out onto Trumpington Road...

...finally bringing me to the garden entrance.

I can't recommend it enough. At any time of year there is always something to see. The asters were looking marvellous; here Aster herveyi.

This is botany made easy, because everything is labelled. Even the humble but splendid little strawberry clover (Trifolium fragiferum), a favourite of mine, has it's own plot and plaque in my favourite bit of the garden; the systematic beds.

It's named for its inflated fruiting heads which look like furry strawberries.

And here, a rather straggly-looking saw-wort (Serratula tinctoria)...

...a scrummy plant that I am yet to see on my wanderings in the countryside. Does it look this small and scrawny in the wild?

Another gem I bumped into in the limestone rock garden was ground pine, Ajuga chamaepitys...

...a rare arable weed and a plant I have only seen once in the 'wild'.

I wanted to spend some time in the glasshouses on this visit.

The amazing yellow bloom is a Kahli ginger lily, Hedychium gardnerianum, from northern India. Smells lovely.

Even the door furniture is worth a picture...

...and this secret cupboard in the wall.

They really should put some old botany books in there.

As (nearly) everything was labelled for exotic and cultivated plant ignoramuses like me, I can provide names for all the lustrous blooms I saw (except the yellow climber above which I forgot to get the name for). Here's a selection.

Echinopsis spachiana, a columnar cactus from South America. The flower was roughly the size of my head.

Heliconia rostrata, aka the false bird of paradise or lobster claw, another South American beauty pollinated by hummingbirds.

Thunbergia mysorensis, the Indian clock vine.

Aeschynanthus tricolor from Java

Dioscorea bulbifera, the incredible air potato, a species of yam from Africa and Asia.

It really looks just like potato suspended in the air. It's native to tropical Asia and now invasive in America where it was introduced in 1905 (see here). It's a vigorous climber, having underground tubers and these potato-like aerial bulbils (an aerial tuber).

Staying in the tropical room, here is Hymenocallis littoralis or the beach spider lily from coastal Central America. The flower looks almost alien and something I might expect to buy on the zokalo on Babylon 5. (Ah! Just remembered. They remind me of the star laces Londo gives Adira.)

Then into the carnivorous room where a polite notice states...

I'd never quite imagined, for some reason, that North American pitcher plants (Saracenia spp) have flowers, but they do.

Finally back into the corridor for the lush purple flowers of the glory bush (Tibouchina urvilleana) from Brazil.

The delicate blooms of the Australian Viola hederacea.

And the weird fruits of Clerodendrum schweinfurthii from tropical West Africa.

I had a wonderful and relaxing afternoon. But, although I certainly got my fix, and saw many exotic and beautiful plants, that cannot compare, for me, to the thrill I get when I find rare or unusual wild-flowers on a walk in the countryside. Saw-wort is on my personal hit-list for next year and I'd like to see ground pine again. It's just not quite the same seeing them labelled in a garden.

On my way home I noticed this poster at Hitchin station.

I find it disturbing that I live in a society where someone, be they pregnant, elderly or whatever, might need to carry a card in order to be offered a seat on the train by a fellow passenger. Humph.

Just a quickie before I flop into bed; a woody root witch I found last year when I visited the glasshouses. I forgot to pay her a visit yesterday. I wonder if she's still there?

Pottering about

2011-08-16T13:47:00.107+01:00

Whilst fiddling around in the garden the other day, I happened to lift up a large pot to see what was underneath. I was hoping to see a devil's coach-horse or a grass snake. Instead I found these...

...12 little cells made of sandy mud. I could see some, actually most, were broken or holed. But at least 3 were intact (the top 3 in this photo) and looked brighter than the rest.

Looking closer, the little cells are made of layers of mud with sand-grains. They are quite rough on the outside but the inside is perfectly smooth.

The ends are capped off and completely sealed. Clearly they are made to protect whatever is inside, sealed from the environment, be that the British weather, predators or parasites.

I guessed some kind of solitary wasp might have made these stand-a-lone little pottery cocoons, so I scampered indoors to find my insect id book. I tend to rely on Chinery (1986) for most basic insect identification. But as I didn't have the actual insect and there were no pictures of cells like these in the book, I was a bit stumped.

At first I thought possible builders might be potter or mason wasps; Eumenidae. But Eumenes coarctatus, the heathland potter wasp, is at the northern edge of its range in the UK and doesn't occur this far north (see here for UK distribution map). So my garden was the wrong habitat, in the wrong part of the country. And the shape of the cells was wrong: Eumenidae build tiny pottery vases with a lip, which I've seen on the continent. Here is a typical Eumenidae pot on Bug Guide (a North American online id guide).

So temporarily defeated, I uploaded a photo onto iSpot and sure enough an expert (in this case David Notton an authority on UK Hymenoptera from the Natural History Museum) came forward with a probable identification: Auplopus carbonarius, a spider-hunting solitary wasp. A.carbonarius is 'unique' amongst British spider-hunting wasps in building aggregations of clay/mud cells in sheltered locations (David Notton, iSpot, 2011).

Thanks to a generous band of people who share their photos online, I am able to show pictures of the adult wasps. This gorgeous picture of an adult spider-hunting wasp, A.carbonarius, was taken in Portugal. [Picture from Wikipedia taken by Joaquim Alves Gaspar in Portugal in 2007. Used under a Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike 3.0 Unported License.]

Spider-hunting wasps, Pompilidae, are solitary (as opposed to social) wasps who build nests (usually burrows), and provision these with fresh arachnoid meat (aka a spider) to feed their developing larvae. They capture and paralyse a spider, and drag it back to their nest, still alive and fresh. No mean feat! The wasps often amputate the legs of the paralysed spider to facilitate transport (Jeremy Early, 2011). They are ectoparasitoids; spending part of their life-cycle (in this case the larval stage) living off a host. They seal the nest up, leaving their egg to hatch and feed on the spider. End of parental duties.

This wonderful shot, showing the wasp dragging a stunned spider to one of its cells was taken in Germany. [Picture from Wikipedia taken by Fritz-Geller-Grimm, in Germany in 2006. Used under a Creative Commons Attribution/Share-Alike 2.5 Generic License.]

And below, not for the squeamish, is an Australian spider-hunting wasp dragging a rather large huntsman spider up a wall to her nest. I remember these large, long-legged spiders very well as they used to wander across my bedroom wall in Perth, Western Australia and I once put my hand on one when I pulled a curtain back......I still shudder to look at them and develop acute cutis anserina. [Picture from Wikipedia taken by Brian Jenkins, in Australia in 2009. Used under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported License.]

Whoever built these little mud cocoons in my garden, they have some seriously impressive engineering skills. They sourced and quarried the materials, and transported them to the site under my pot, a site which they must also have selected with some care. Then they built these pottery cells in situ. They then went hunting, caught a live spider, drugged it and dragged it back to the nest. Then they stuffed it inside the cell, laid an egg on it and sealed the top off with more mud. Wow! That is some effort. I stand in awe of my waspy neighbours.

Auplopus carbonarius is a nationally notable species. As we have no wasp vice-county recorder in Bedfordshire, the bee recorder has agreed to take this record.

I've checked under the other plant pots nearby and can't find any more invertebrate pottery. But I'm very curious, so although I won't open a cell to see what's inside, I've brought them indoors and placed them in a box. I'll have to keep the humidity right. So now it's time to sit back, watch and wait, till spring......

If anyone has any corrections, clarifications or additions to make to what I've written I'd be very happy to hear them :-)

Bibliography & Further Information
Chinery M (1986) Collins Guide to the Insects of Britain & Western Europe. Collins. IMHO the must have guide to Britain's insects.
A very informative website stocked with information about these wasps (and many others) is this one by Jeremy Early.
BBC Living World on Radio 4 broadcast a programme on the heathland potter wasp in November 2010, still available on iPlayer here. Not the wasp that made the cells I found but interesting none-the-less.
iSpot now has 3 pictures (including mine) of mud cells made by this dapper little spider-hunting wasp: 128290, 169596 and 199972, all of which have been identified by David Notton.
I also found this rather more detailed tome: O'Neil K (2001) Solitary wasps: behavior and natural history. Cornell University Press. Preview only available on Google books here.

Sex and the Single Gastropod

2011-08-14T22:07:00.013+01:00

I adore the seaside. I love collecting bags of shells, seaweed, driftwood, broken bits of crabs and feathers. Anything really.

Brancaster in North Norfolk has a wide expanse of sandy beach, perfect for beach-combing. The Brancaster Estate is owned and managed by the National Trust. We serendipitously met, and had an interesting and informative chat with the local NT coastal warden, Keith Miller. What a great place to work.

Parking was £3.50 all day in the private car-park (there is no NT car park here) next to the famous Royal West Norfolk Golf Club, right by the beach (and next to public toilets and an ice cream shop; all you need really).

I was a bit non-plussed as to what to do. Brancaster has some fabulous habitats to explore; salt marsh, dunes, dune slacks and beach. Too much choice! But the beach looked inviting, despite the fierce wind and patchy drizzle.

From the beach, the wreck of the SS Vina is clearly visible (at full zoom) on a sand bar with its black spheres, the marker for isolated danger at sea.

SS Vina was a coaster working the Baltic trade routes from the East coast, until the war when she was requestioned and eventually ended up, in 1944, rather ignominiously being used for target practice. She now lies rusting off the Norfolk Coast, too expensive to do anything about now.

So time for some serious beach-combing. Trouble is I'm a bit out of my depth when it comes to identifying what I find. I can do the basics like limpets and cockles, but then things get a rather hazy. Here's a selection of finds.

I managed razor shell, tentatively identified here as Ensis siliquia, the pod razor shell. The live animal lives under the sand and has a hydraulic foot which anchors it in place.

What I believe is, another sand-burrower, the blunt gaper, Mya truncata...

...with its spoon-shaped process (a chrondrophore) on which the internal ligament attaches, visible in the photo below.

The European oyster, Ostrea edulis. Here the lower, saucer-shaped valve...

...and here the flatter upper valve.

The spiral shell of the common whelk or buckie, Buccinum undatum.

The whelk is a fearsome predator, if you are a cockle, anyway. It attaches to a cockle shell, then either asphyxiates it or just forces the valves apart, in order to dine.

Near the water's edge were hundreds of worm casts, most likely from the lugworm, Arenicola marina.

Don't let these little sand casts or the fact that lugworms rarely leave their burrows fool you into thinking they lead dull, lugubrious lives. Lugworms are hermaphrodites. More specifically they are simultaneous or synchronous hermaphrodites: individuals have both male and female sex organs at the same time. In the case of the lugworm the eggs are fertilised by sperm from another individual. How? Lugworms have an annual sex jamboree in October, called a genital crisis. So they must be starting to get a bit excited about now, it being mid-August; only 2 months to go. They all release their eggs and sperm at the same time, into the water above, where the eggs are fertilised. Amazing.

Staying with the sex and hermaphrodite theme, here is a blue mussel (Mytilus edulis) carrying an entire habitat on its back, including a most interesting hitch-hiker. Mussels are not sand-dwellers, they attach to firm substrates and are filter feeders. This one must once have been anchored off the coast on rocks.

On this empty mussel shell are barnacles, brown, red and green seaweeds, bryozoans (the white encrustations) and......slipper limpets (Crepidula fornicata).

Slipper limpets are gastropods. The name Crepidula fornicata might raise a few eyebrows in Victorian sitting rooms. Crepidula is from the Latin for a small boot, from the shape of the inside of the shell (see photo below). Fornicata is from the Latin fornix, an arch or vaulted chamber. Roman prostitutes plied their trade under arches. Hence the word fornication, which essentially means, I suppose, sex under the arches. Crepidula fornicata is a small arched boot. Which sounds a bit dull.

Not a bit of it. These little gastropods actually have gripping sex-lives. They are hermaphrodites but with a difference: they're sequential hermaphrodites: born one sex and change to another. They are gregarious and tend to form stacks, with shells piled one on top of the other. The largest animal, at the base of the stack is female. The smaller ones on top are male. In my photo (above) a small (probably male) shell is on the back of the larger (probably female) shell. All on the back of that poor old mussel. If the large female dies, the largest male will become female. They are thus protandrous; they start male, and become female. Enthralling little creatures.

The tide was coming in fast and I was getting into very choppy waters with my shell id. I'll only venture a few more. The common cockle Cerastoderma eduli, which must live in fear of those carnivorous whelks.

This is, I think, a piddock shell, possibly Pholas dactylis; a creature that incredibly emits a luminescent green light in its burrow!

Hornwrack, Flustra foliacea.

And what may be a battered cat-shark (Scyliorhinus spp) eggcase.

All the while the wind was blowing relentlessly across the beach.

I feel the need for something a little more botanical to finish, as this is primarily a botany blog. It's a tenuous link, but here is the fishing vessel Speedwell, painted appropriately blue, temporarily grounded as she heads home on the rising tide.

Any corrections to my tentative identifications above, will be most graciously and gratefully received.

Bibliography and Sources of Information

Campbell AC (1988) The Country Life Guide to the Seashore and Shallow Seas of Britain and Europe. Country Life Books.
I found this amazing website about British bryozoans, a much neglected group of minute but intriguing organisms.
The Field Studies Council has a website here, for identifying organisms found on the seashore.
***The National Museum of Wales website here is a fantastic resource for identifying marine bivalve molluscs. It looks good, is easy to use and is comprehensive, covering not only identification but ecology***
The Natural History Museum has a website that deals with British seaweeds here. There are also details of the Big Seaweed Search on the site as well, downloadable recording forms and an id guide.

Cnut's last stand

2011-08-12T22:59:00.010+01:00

Legend says that one day, King Cnut asked his fawning courtiers to put his throne on the seashore and then he commanded the tide not to come in. Of course, it did, Cnut got wet feet and probably his courtiers did too. But what he wanted to demonstrate to them, was the futility of earthly kings in comparison to the natural world, which he believed, was under divine jurisdiction. He is said to have never worn his crown again after this event. Apocryphal maybe, but noble.

The North Norfolk coast is beautiful; a dynamic mix of sandy beaches, dunes, sand-spits and brackish salt-marsh. Wild, open, desolate, wind-swept, a place to breathe deeply, roam and unwind. All quite within 'day-trip' reach of home.

Brancaster beach looking east.

After exploring the coast at Brancaster all day, an evening at RSPB Titchwell Marsh, before heading home, was too tempting to resist, even though the weather was (for 6pm in mid-summer) pretty dreary; windy, dull and drizzly.

The North Sea is gradually rising and eroding the sea walls on this stretch of coast, and the RSPB have, like wise Cnut, accepted the dominance of the sea at Titchwell Marsh.

The RSPB's Coastal Change Project is a big undertaking, and an upheaval for the site (the project is described here on Bird Guides). Essentially they are managing a sea incursion inland and recreating habitats to compensate for those that will be lost (if I have understood it correctly).

The freshwater habitats at Titchwell are most under threat from the sea. This is freshmarsh (below) with its lowered water levels.

From Island Hide I could sit and eat my sarnies whilst watching our most beautiful wader; the pied avocet (Recurvirostra avosetta). I think that Recurvirostra means bent beak. The etymology of avosetta is unknown (according to Wikipedia) but Greenoak (1997) says that it is derived from the Latin avis, bird, with a 'diminutive ending, characteristic of the Italian language, which indicates charm and grace' (p81).

Who needs TV? This adult (below) was taking a nap. I love his/her bold monochrome plumage.

A juvenile, with browner markings, was feeding in the shallows. The unique sweeping, swooping movement avocets make with their elegant curved bills is mesmerising. Most photos came out like this......'bird with head under water'....

....it was just walking and feeding too fast. Avocets have been observed to use 4 different feeding strategies, the most common being what is called the 'normal feeding strategy' in which they make, on average 28 scything sweeps per minute (Moreira, 2008). No wonder taking photos was so frustrating.

After becoming extinct in the UK in the 1830s, avocets returned to England in the 1940s breeding on muddy banks and islands in brackish water (Greenoak, 1997). Watching these gorgeous, graceful birds feeding within feet of the hide was worth the membership of the RSPB alone.

There were also black-tailed godwits (I stand to be corrected) with their enormously long bills, within camera range.

My goodness my id skills were rusty and I had no bird book with me, but I managed teal, black-headed gull, lapwings and ringed plover (although I'm now unsure if it was ringed or little ringed; cute whatever it was). There was apparently a green sandpiper feeding at the far side of the marsh. I say, apparently, as my binoculars are so old and frankly rubbish, that I couldn't see much except for a dim haze. I was persuaded today, for a late birthday present, to acquire some new ones from In Focus. A quick detour to London Colney on the way to London, means I am now armed and ready for the winter season :-)

In the hide a board explains the basics of the 'build a new sea wall or lose the reserve' plan.

The plans include creating more suitable breeding habitat for the lovely scooping avocets.

From the comfort of Island Hide we could see the new jazzy award-winning Parrinder hide on the sea wall.

I am not sure how I feel about this new hide. I've not been inside, but I have many happy memories of attempted hypothermia in basic wooden hides over the years and as we had Island Hide virtually to ourselves, I felt no desire for more luxurious surroundings.

By 7pm the light was dreadful and the drizzle kept up. Despite the rain I was keen to go out past Parrinder to the beach, but I was dragged, rather reluctantly, back to the car and a 2 hour drive home. I might have seen spoonbills.......instead I passed this most handsome woodpigeon, sitting guard outside the hide.

I didn't realise, until I got back to the car-park, that he/she was one of the Titchwell night staff. Clearly these guys are responsible for site security once the day staff have gone home.

They certainly kept a close eye on comings and goings in the car-park.......

I've just looked out the window and it is a relatively clear sky with a full moon. Might be worth setting the alarm to peek outside in the wee small hours to catch a glimpse of the Perseids. [Edit: It wasn't to be. The cloud came over almost as soon as I pressed 'publish' and then it started to rain later on. And to top it all a cat (not actually the cat, the sparrows making a racket) woke me in the middle of the night, sitting on the bedroom windowsill, trying to fish roosting sparrows out of the rose bush. Grrrr.]

More information on...
RSPB Titchwell project here.
Greenoak F (1997) British Birds: Their Folklore, Names and Literature. London: Helm, AC&C Black
Moreira F (2008) The winter feeding ecology of Avocets Recurvirostra avosetta on intertidal areas. I. Feeding strategies. Ibis, Volume 137, Issue 1, pages 92-8. Abstract only online here.

Gentians relished

2011-08-11T16:43:00.003+01:00

Gentians (Gentiana and Gentianella), like orchids, are alluring to botanists. There are about 9 species of gentian in the UK, but most are rare and have exacting habitat requirements, and thus restricted occurence. They are closely related to centauries (Centuarium spp.)

Gentians were named in homage to the last Illyrian king, Gentius, who was defeated by the Romans in 168BC. Here is Gentius, in a rather fetching hat, on one of his coins. (Picture from Wikipedia.)

Legend says that it was he who discovered the digestive tonic effects of gentians. Who knows? More on that later; flowers first.

A last minute reprieve from having to drive to London offered an opportunity to go to seek out autumn gentians in southern Bedfordshire. Autumn gentian (Gentianella amarella) is our latest flowering gentian and one of the more 'common', if one can ever say that about any gentian in England. A 25 minute drive found us at Sharpenhoe Clappers, an area of chalk downland, owned by the National Trust, on the northern part of the Chilterns Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty. ('Clappers' means 'land with rabbit warrens', although I didn't see a bunny all day.)

I walked down the path (photo above) from the car park and within 5 minutes I'd found my quarry growing in short turf by the road.

The 5-petalled flower is a dull purple mauve, today rather bleached out by the bright sunlight.

The tubular corolla is circled at the top by a coronet of fine hairs, and the sepals are long and tapered.

Exquisite little blooms.......

I am pretty sure all the plants I found were autumn gentian and not Chiltern gentian (Gentianella germanica), it's rarer cousin (with whom it hybridizes freely).

It looks like there will be quite a display in the next week or so.

Autumn gentian used to be called bastard felwort, a colourful name, which has fallen into disuse. Felwort probably derives from the words fel (gall) wort (plant) (Grigson, 1975).

'Gall' is a clue that gentians are all intensely bitter-tasting herbs and are commonly used in modern Western herbal medicine as digestive tonics and appetite stimulants. The archetypal standard herbal bitter is Gentiana lutea (the picture below is from Wikipedia); a native of Central & Southern European mountains.

Bitters stimulate bitter taste receptors on the tongue and gastric secretions: they are sialagogues (make you salivate) and cholagogues (stimulate release of bile).

Bitters are classified according to their bitterness (obviously) and gentians are right up at the top of the list of the most bitter-tasting plants.

There are 4 main types of bitter used in herbal medicine; simple or pure (e.g. gentian and centaury), astringent (e.g. cinchona), aromatic (e.g. wormwood) and acrid or pungent (e.g. ginger) (Capasso, et al., 2003, Schulz, et al., 2004). Gentian is an ingredient in Angostura bitters; rather tasty in a Long Vodka (bitters, vodka and lemonade). I developed a penchant for Angostura bitters in Australia where a popular drink, as I recall was lemon, lime and bitters (LLB).

Today, our wild gentians are rare, and their use in herbal medicine would be reprehensible, however Nicholas C ulpeper (1616-1654) railed, in The English Physician....

He recommended dried gentian root for the 'biting of mad dogs and venomous beasts', liver obstruction and appetite stimulation. Soaked in wine it could soothe the weary, restore the lame, take away the discomforts of those with stitches and 'griping pains in the sides', and cure the King's Evil (tuberculosis).

It was delightful to find such a super little plant so easily and so near to home.

There were many other lovely plants on display, so continuing the purple/mauve theme, here are some other botanical highlights from Sharpenhoe Clappers....

The lovely dwarf thistle (Cirsium acaule), whose spiny leaves readily found my knees when I knelt to take photos.

It's more massive relative the gorgeous woolly thistle (Cirsium eriophorum)

Devil's bit scabious (Succisa pratensis) was just coming into flower (here with a 6-spot burnet moth).

Delicate harebells (Campanula rotundifolia).

Lush flowerheads of greater knapweed (Centaurea scabiosa).

Clustered bellflowers (Campanula glomerata) with their deep, rich, purple flowers.

Some small spikes of sainfoin (Onobrychis viciifolia) were putting on a last glorious show before autumn.

In the yellow hues there was ploughman's spikenard (Inula conzyae).

I've been trying to find out the etymology of spikenard in relation to this rather humble, overlooked plant. Spikenard is possibly derived from spica (an ear of corn) and narda (either named after an ancient Syrian city or from the Sanskrit, to smell). Now, true spikenard, is a plant in the Valerian family, called muskroot (Nardostachys grandiflora), the oil of which was a luxury and expensive perfume. Ploughman's spikenard (maybe a corruption of poorman's?) is a reference to the alleged aromatic qualities of its root: It is also called cinnamon-root. [I say 'alleged' as I've never pulled up the plant (nor would, unless I grow some myself) just to smell the roots.] Akeroyd (1999) informs me, that country-folk hung up the roots of ploughman's spikenard as a sort of ancient Air Wick.

Carline thistle (Carlina vulgaris) was coming into flower; here with an obliging bee practising the yoga 'cat' position.

And just so we don't all get the idea that autumn is fast approaching, here is a rather late (or early?) flowering, and clearly confused cowslip (Primula veris).

Only found the one, but it threw me temporarily.

A small (10cm) broomrape found growing in the grazed turf, close to lots of clovers, keyed out as common broomrape (Orobanche minor), which I trust is correct. [The flowers of some plants were clearly veined with purple, stamens were hairless and the stigmas were reddy-purple.]

It was a sunny but incredibly blustery day and butterflies were plentiful. I tried in vain to get photos, but in the end, just caught this one; a blue. My butterfly id skills are rather rusty, but I believe this is a male chalkhill blue.....?

Finally, this is looking back to the grassland by the road up to Sharpenhoe Clappers, where the gentians grow.

More information
Sharpenhoe Clappers from Central Bedfordshire archaeology here
References
Akeroyd J (1999) The Encyclopedia of Flowering Plants. Bath: Dempsey-Barr/Parragon.
Capasso F, Gaginella TS, Grandolini G and Izzo A (20030) Phytotherapy: A Quick Reference Guide to Herbal Medicine. Germany: Springer-Verlag.
Culpeper N (1770 Edition) The English Physician Enlarged. Available on Google books here and see page 149 for Autumn gentian.
Grigson G (1975) The Englishman's Flora. Paladin.
Schulz V, Hänsel R, Blumenthal M and Tyler V (2004) Rational Phytotherapy. Germany: Springer-Verlag

A bit doddery

2011-08-08T22:49:00.004+01:00

On Sunday I walked around the RSPB reserve at Fen Drayton. It's only 15 miles or so north of here and is a complex of lakes next to the River Great Ouse in Cambridgeshire; a wonderful place where one can relish the open fenland landscapes and cloudscapes.

'Twas darned windy but the sun was deliciously warm in the morning and I took the opportunity, on a few occasions, to lie down in the long grass to soak up the rays. And it was also congenial to catch-up with the RSPB's Neil Renwick, who used to work at The Lodge, Sandy, and is still very much missed.

By the banks of the River Great Ouse I noticed some white-flowered creeping thistle (Cirsium arvense) and paused to take a photo.

I then noticed something scrambling around the thistles....

....and was thrilled to find it was greater dodder (Cuscuta europaea), a brilliantly weird plant that I'd not seen before. The UK distribution map here, indicates that it is not only nationally scarce but likes growing along river banks.

There are 4 species of dodder in the UK; greater dodder (Cuscuta europaea), dodder (C. epithymum), flax dodder (C. epilinum) and yellow dodder (C. campestris).

Gerard's (1597) general description of dodder still holds good...

All dodders (Cuscuta species) are obligate parasites; they live by stealing nutrients from their host plant. They don't have roots and don't photosynthesize (or at least not very much, greater dodder not at all). Yes, they're a bit of a pest on crop plants, but very interesting all the same.

Different species of dodder specialise in parasitizing different hosts. Greater dodder's primary host is nettles (Urtica spp) but it will parasitize other plants nearby, in this case creeping thistles.

Dodder clambers up its host with its sinuous tendrils, binding itself around the host's stems. It attaches to its host via haustoria; specialised appendages on the stem which penetrate the host tissues. You can just about make out the swellings on the red dodder tendrils in the picture below; pillaging nutrients and water from this nettle.

Now, if you are a parasite or a predator you've got to be able to find your prey. Tiny dodder seedlings must detect and latch onto a host as soon as possible. Recent research indicates that dodder can 'smell' or 'sniff' its host species. Dodder apparently does this by sensing the unique chemical signature of its host plant. Research on Cuscuta pentagona which uses tomato plants as a host, indicates that dodder seedlings in a lab preferentially grow towards their hosts (in this case a tomato plant) or a cocktail of 'tomato chemicals', rather than just damp soil (Runyon et al., 2006).

Once it finds a host, dodder grows quickly, tangling its tortuous tendrils around its host in a vivid (in the case of greater dodder) red woven cloak, which smothers, but does not kill the host. On crop plants, this is economically costly, and in the US dodder is high on the most hated weeds list; in fact there are 53 species of dodder listed as noxious weeds in the US (USDA 2010).

Mind you, dodder was never very popular. John Pechey (1694) lacerates it in his Compleat Herbal;

So no mincing one's words there. Colloquially it has been called; devil's guts, devil's hair, hellbind, hellweed, witches shoelaces and strangleweed.

The stems of dodder species vary in colour from red to yellow-orange. The name dodder may be from the old Dutch word doden for egg yolk, or from Dutch/German words dodd meaning 'a bunch' or dot meaning 'a tangled thread' (Johnson, 1866).

The pale creamy pink flowers of greater dodder are borne in a ball on its red tendrils, sometimes strung between host plants, like washing lines.

At Dungeness in June, dodder (in this case the smaller Cuscuta epithymum), was tangled over Nottingham catchfly (Silene nutans).

That's the old Dungeness lighthouse in the background.

Cuscuta epithymum has small pink flowers. The name epithymum by the way indicates that this species of dodder also parasitizes thyme; epi (on) thymum (thyme) (Johnson, 1866).

It looked like spaghetti.

Dodder was used as a herbal remedy; it's properties (allegedly) depending on the host plant it grew on, as Gerard (1597) notes that, 'The nature of this herbe changeth and altereth, according to the nature and qualitie of the herbes whereupon it groweth, so that by searching of the nature of the plants you may easilie find out the temperament of the laces growing upon the same.'

Turner (1568), without being specific as to which dodder to use, recommends it for 'stoppinge of the lyver and milte [spleen]. It discharged the baynes [?] of flegmatyk and cholerike humors by the urine. It healeth the iaundes [jaundice] that commeth of the stoppinge of the lyver. It is good for childer that have the ague. But much....of it hurteth the stomake...'

Gerard (1597) makes special mention of the 'dodder growing upon nettles' being 'a most singular and effectual medicine to provoke urine, and to loose the obstructions of the body, and is prooved oftentimes in the west parts to have good successe against many maladies.'

Very cool plants indeed.

Further Information on...
RSPB Fen Drayton.
Neil Renwick's RSPB blog is here
Neil also runs a wildlife blog for the Cambridgshire News.
Dodder
Gerard J (1597) Herball or Generall Historie of Plantes. Online here.
Johnson GW (1866) The Wildflowers of Great Britain. On Google books here.
Pechey J (1694) The Compleat Herbal of Physical Plants. (I can't find an online version)
Runyon JB, Mescher MC and De Moraes CM (2006) Volatile chemical cues guide host location and host selection by parasitic plants. Science, Volume 313, pages 1964–7 (here)
Turner W (1568) A New Herball. Booke One (p113-4) (I can't find an online version)
United States Department of Agriculture (2010) Federal Noxious Weed List

Phil Gates has grown dodder in his lab and has written a blog about dodder (here). Fabulous close-up photos.

Evening migration

2011-08-06T11:41:00.000+01:00

Another muggy day in the Big Smoke (London, for those not on this island), when even the blackbirds were sunbathing.

I don't think I'll ever make it as a bird photographer, as you can tell, because I'm a twitcher. I have a hand tremor. But these are a few species from my dad's North London garden yesterday. Sadly the jay didn't put in an appearance and the green woody kept hidden behind the flowerbeds (grrr). Couple more excuses; photos were taken through dusty, double-glazing with sunny glare, on full zoom. Excuses over.

When my sister and I were young there was a male blackbird with white tail feathers we used to call Mortallus (Morty for short). He seemed to be in the garden year on year. This lad below, hopped about in the shade of the bushes.

A flock of about 13 long tailed-tits entertained us. Fluff on wings.

Exotic green woodpeckers are frequent visitors to the mown Axminster carpet lawn. This one was determined to keep out of camera shot hiding behind the phlox.

Magpies, perhaps not so welcome guests, this one out on the Green at the front, are comical to watch.

The aircon in the car seems to have given up the ghost so I had a sweaty journey back home up the A1M.

I was yacking on the phone when I heard a rumpus outside, and noticed a deal of swooping and diving through the front windows. Hmm.

Zipping upstairs to the bedroom I saw, I'd say, about 40-50 swallows, putting on aerial acrobatic displays down the lane that the Red Arrows can only dream of. It upset the resident spuggies quite a bit. They were all of a fluster and took some time to settle down to bed. (We have about 15 chattering sparrows living in the climbing rose out front.)

Of course the swallows settled on the phone wires outside next door. More shaky long zoom through windows.

There was much preening and stretching; avian pilates.

Lovely jubbly to watch. I was sad when they moved off.

The evening turned out fine and cool, so I took a chill-out trek round the RSPB HQ (The Lodge is just nearby). Had immediate sighting of a hobby (thanks Mark) and several green woodpeckers (including 2 juveniles up to noisy no good on the heath). A tawny owl flying silently through the woods was a special treat.

I'm told a nightjar has been heard recently. I saw the one that turned up at the Lodge a year or so back...from a few feet away. That was awesome (but of course I had no camera with me) (see here).

Frolics at Fowlmead

2011-08-04T12:25:00.005+01:00

Fowlmead Country Park, between Sandwich and Deal (Kent), is a recently rejuvenated coal spoil heap and now a great place for off-road cycling, and, as it happens, botany. I'd not visited Fowlmead on my previous Kentish excursions, due to the plethora of other fabulous natural habitats in East Kent in which to indulge my botanical fetishes.

But, my niece loves Fowlmead, so we made some lettuce and salad cream sarnies, packed her bike into my car, and off we went (28th July). I hired a bike for £3.50/hour (hire includes a cycle helmet). Parking is £1.50 all day, so very cheap if you bring your own bikes. It was pretty busy with lots of kids (and adults) having lots of fun :-)

The first thing I did was park, inadvertently, in the disabled parking bay. It's not, IMHO, very well marked, as once a car is parked in front of the sign, other driver's can't see it. Hmm.

Young niece was quite a demon on her bike, with dastardly tactics which, included the deliberate running of her aunt (encumbered with a digital camera as she was and gazing forlornly at the plants as we flew past them) off the track and into the rough. I didn't get many chances to botanise in the morning, only when small person needed a rest, but I think I got enough for a decent flog (aka a flower blog).

Our first spot of the day was the adorably fluffy hare's-foot clover (Trifolioum arvense) in the play area.

Blue fleabane (Erigeron acris) has rather insignificant but very beautiful flowers.

We stopped by Fowlmead Lake for a rest.

One of the highlights of my day was finding the uncommon narrow-leaved birdsfoot trefoil (Lotus tenuis (syn. glaber), by the lake. (ID has been confirmed by VC recorder).

It's taller and more wiry than common BFT, and very distinctive. It prefers dry grassland near the sea.....so the habitat is just right at Fowlmead. Chuffed I am....... :-)

Nearby the pale pink flowers of the insect magnet, hemp agrimony (Eupatorium cannabinum) were coming into bloom. It's named for the similarity of its leaves to cannabis (to which it is not related).

Ploughman's spikenard (Inula conyzae) with its cute, little, green spreading bracts, was growing by the path. In France they call it herbe aux mouche (herb of the flies). Mrs Grieve lists its common names as Cloron's Hard, Horse Heal, Cinnamon Root and Great Fleabane. [I've not found out what or who Cloron is yet.....except it might be derived from a Welsh word for potato]

On the more open grassland we found swathes of common centaury (Centaurium erythraea) with its curly yellow anthers.

And yellow-wort (Blackstonia perfoliata), its flowers open despite the grey skies.

Both common centaury and yellow-wort are members of the Gentianaceae.

So we come to my other botanical highlight of the day......basil thyme (Clinopodium acinos). It's on the Kent rare plant register and this record has been lodged with the vice-county recorder. Very chuffed indeed I am!

Here basil thyme is growing with wild-strawberry.

We also indulged in some spur-of-the-moment botanically-related art-activities; namely Teasel Sculpture.

Move over Andy Goldsworthy and Derek Jarman......

We then went in search of wild food, finding banks of wild marjoram (Origanum vulgare) on the way.

The dusky purple sloes on the blackthorn (Prunus spinosa) looked almost ripe. We'll need to wait for the first frosts before they're ready for sloe gin......

The dewberries were delicious...

...and we tucked into blackberries and a few late wild strawberries, getting our clothes a tad stained in the process. Ooops.

Autumn in July continued with bright red berries glistening on Guelder rose (Viburnum opulis)...

...and lots of waxy, speckled orange fruits on sea buckthorn (Hippophae rhamnoides).

All in all, a wonderfully successful trip, thoroughly enjoyed by both of us, despite our 45 year age difference. Heaps of fun and very interesting habitats to boot.

We're both polishing our cycle helmets and oiling our gears for a rematch on those cycle-tracks in late August :-)